Proto-Deceased
by Slenderbrine
Summary: Before the beginning of the new year of high school, the Hebert family died in a car crash together. The Fenton siblings moved into their newly opened house soon afterwards. Look out Brockton Bay, the King of Ghosts has arrived. [UNDERGOING REWRITE! GOING TO BE PUBLISHED AS NORMAL "DECEASED"!]
1. Spectral 1-1

_**[Forewarning: The first few arcs are going to be near exact to what Taylor went through. So, you can't get much closer than near exact wording, But don't worry! By the time the bank robbery is done, this universe is going a total different direction! :D]**_

 **Spectral 1.1**

Class was about to end, but all I could think was, _Geez, give me back Mr. Lancer._

Since school started, I couldn't wait to get to the part where we'd talk about capes. Amity Park had unfortunately been busy with some *ahem* _internal issues_ , and most of its inhabitants weren't exactly up to date on the whole "capes" thing. But now that the time had come, I was too busy fidgeting to pay much attention. I checked the time again. _11:40_ , I thought. _5 minutes 'til the end of class._

Mr. Gladly, teacher of the World Issues class, was at the front of the classroom, gesturing and talking animatedly. He struck me as an A-lister, like if someone such as Kwan grew up to be a teacher. He tried his best to be friends with absolutely everybody, getting them to call him "Mr. G" instead of Mr. Gladly. He'd do things like end class early to talk with the kids, give group projects, and have "fun" assignments like mock trials. He seemed to think of himself like everyone's favorite teacher, but I would do anything right now for Mr. Lancer; at least he could keep me focused on classwork, at times.

I looked over my shoulder, where I could feel Madison Clements attempting to burn holes in the back of my head with her stare. She caught me looking and smirked, her eyes narrowing, silently promising things to come. I let out a tired and annoyed huff, and dropped my eyes back to my desk, where I was doodling random crap. I checked the clock again. 11:43, it read.

"Lemme wrap up here," Mr. Gladly said. "Sorry, guys, but there _is_ going to be homework over the weekend. Think about capes, and how they've affected the world around you. You could make a list, if you want, but you don't have to. On Monday, we'll split up into groups of four and go over the lists. Winning group gets treats from the vending machine in the teacher's lounge."

The class, sans me, cheered and quickly deviated into noisy commotion. The room filled with the air of zippers being zipped, chairs moving, binders closing, and the whole like. Gossip and conversation quickly too to the air, becoming the dominant noise in the room.

As for me? I just put my books away in my bookbag and stayed quiet. I pondered about random things before looking down at my bag. I never quite noticed, but it had to sets of shoulder straps. _I wonder why?_ I thought, before shrugging it off. It never bothered me before, and it wouldn't start now. I checked the clock again. It was seconds away from 11:44.

Madison was talking with the she-demons she calls "friends". She was popular, but not gorgeous. She reminded me a bit of Star, being '"adorable" or "petite" as I heard some boys talking about her. You know, stereotypical popular girl. She acted out the concept as she fiddled with the bright blue pins in her shoulder length brunette hair and put up a "cutesy" attitude. Madison wore a strapless top and denim shirt, which seemed moronic to me, and I was called the Clueless One by my friends from Amity Park. It was still early enough in spring that we could see our breaths, so that idea of fashion was beyond stupid.

All in all, she was the kind of girl Sam would've paid to punch.

However, I wasn't in a position to criticize her. People of all genders wanted to be her friend, while I lacked any kind of person in that department (at least, in town). I didn't let anyone see any noticeable traits; I wore baggy clothing to hide my own lithe figure, and covered up all of my skin to hide the many scratches I had littering my body. Amity Park really left its toll on me, and i didn't feel like revealing it to the world any time soon.

Other guys liked her because they thought she was appealing without being intimidating. I suppose what they don't know won't hurt them.

Just me.

The bell rang its shrill ringing sound, and I was the first one out the door, darting in between students to get where I wanted to be. I walked with purpose, not running, to the boy's bathroom. There were enough boys in there that I could count on one hand. I ignored them, as they gave me the same treatment, and made my way to the middle stall. I opened the door, stepped in, and locked the door behind me.

I sat on the toilet and began eating lunch from the brown paper bag Jazz had packed for me. Eating on the toilet had become routine for me; no matter where I went, bullies always seemed to find me. Every school day, I would eat my lunch, and then proceed to either read a book on cape history or text Sam/Tucker. Right now, I had a book about the Triumvirate in my bag. I never liked biographies. I don't know whether it was something about the problems I had encountered in Amity Park, or what, but I didn't like stories talking about people post-mortem before they were actually post-mortem.

Whatever plan I thought I had set for myself, it completely shattered when I heard the bathroom door open. "Yeah," I heard someone say, "he's in the middle stall."

Shit, I thought. I put my unoriginal ham sandwich back in the brown bag, and that back in my purple backpack. I stood up and forced my weight against the door, but it held; someone was probably on the other side.

 _Damn it_ , I thought. _Who designs bathroom stall doors so the open_ outwards _? Because I want to shoot that idiot._

"Here it comes!" a boy shouted, and there it came. Dark liquid spilled over the top of the stalls, down onto me. On basic instinct, I turned intangible, and it phased right through me. But what I forgot to account for was the stall was filled with me plus one. I looked down at my bag, now soaked with cranberry juice (that explains the smell) and soda (which explains the other smell). I picked up my sopping wet bag and kicked the door, which flung open. Boys from the track team leered at me, smirking and guffawing.

Track team, which means…

Grimacing, I turned to leave, and opened the door. There, standing before me, were the three masterminds of the operation.

Madison Clements, Sophia Hess, and Emma Barnes sneered at me while I stared at them in anger. If Madison was to be considered a late bloomer, then Sophia and Emma were the types of girls that could only be found in an episode of _Mean Girls_. Sophia was dark-skinned, with a slender and athletic build she'd developed as a runner on the school's track team. Emma, the red head, contrasted Sophia, having all the curves I guy could ever hope to see (barring me). The rumor mill said she managed to get jobs as an amateur model with her looks, for catalogs that stores and malls put out. The three of them were laughing like my day being ruined was the funniest thing ever, but I didn't register their laughs. Most of my attention was to keep the roar of green and red blood I heard in my ears to calm down. I tried taking deep breaths, not wanting to let loose on these bullies who couldn't know better.

I didn't trust myself to say something that wouldn't lead to a fight. Out of sheer human decency.

I took another deep breath and caught my reflection in a vending machine window. Standing at 5'11", I was well taller than the three girls. My messy black hair pointed out in every direction, and my blue eyes promised pain. I was wearing my signature white shirt with red accents, as well as a black long-sleeved shirt beneath it. I ditched my jeans for cargo pants, which let me move more freely. My left white sneaker was still, but my right foot was tapping on the cheap tile floor.

 _Deep breaths, Danny_ , I told myself. As Danny Phantom, Savior of Amity Park and King of Ghosts, I could absolutely wipe the floor with the snot-nosed brats. But at school, I was wimpy Danny Fenton. And I would _not_ let myself lose control because of these brats.

I walked away from the trio, calming myself with deep breaths. I eventually found my way behind the school, before releasing an inarticulate scream of fury and punched the wall. I didn't even bother to check; I knew I cracked it at least, dented it at most.

"These kids are going to make me blow a _really_ big fuse one of these days," I said aloud, to no one. I had been putting up with them for a year and a half, practically since I moved to Brockton Bay.

I wasn't sure what I was supposed to do for my afternoon classes. We were supposed to bring in paper-maché crafts, but seeing my new cranberry-scented backpack, _that_ idea was out the window. I sighed, and summoned a ball of ectoplasm into my hands.

I stared into the green aura the ball of spectral fire I held. I was Danny Phantom; I had put up with ghosts for two years, angry civilians, ghost hunters, and a slew of other problems. I had decent control over a handful of powers in my human form; my ghost form was practically untouchable.

If I felt like it, I could go Corpse Party on the school. Give my tormentors a taste of what they were attempting to put me through. I had the power to shoot ectoplasmic blasts out of my hands and feet. I could shape refined ectoplasm into any solid shape I chose. Intangibility and invisibility, the two most basic ghost powers, at my command. Cryokinesis, using ecto ice that would only melt or break when I chose for it to. Super strength and super hearing, which were absolutely _super_. I usually avoided overshadowing, but I could do it. I lacked increased durability, but I made up for it in increased reflexives. I had a healing factor that could makes bad scrapes disappear by the end of the day. There was duplication for trouble in numbers. I had the ghostly ability to absorb emotions of fear, and get supercharged, but usually steered away from that one. And, at the end of my list, was my Ghostly Wail; my most powerful attack, one that could wipe the floor with almost anyone.

Listing off the abilities in my head, I realized, yes, I was _very_ overpowered. But I would not use a single ability on a human, other than using intangibility and invisibility to get out of bad situations. I was better than that; to abuse my abilities. I sighed as I let my ectoplasm disperse, the energy leaving into either me, or microscopic rifts into the Ghost Zone.

Sometimes, I missed Amity Park. The ability to leave at night, fight ghosts, relieve my anger. It was very calming at times, but if one replaced the rubber stress ball with the Box Ghost. It was the memories I had, as well as the nightmares, that kept me going, and stopped me from going ham on my bullies. At first, I was really confused how I had gained bullies on my first day of high school, without pissing anyone off.

Then I learned one of my tormentor's full name was Emma Baxter Barnes.

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 **[A/N]: Hello there! I am officially out of school early! I now have time to be writing things like, WPAF, my Minecraft story, and the Bone and the Clock!**

 **Or I could just go and start a new crossover. *Sigh***

 **Yeah, this one has been plaguing my mind for a while. So, I'm going to be doing my best to publish this one the most, with periodic updates for my other stories, until the ball gets rolling for the others ones. Yay.**

 **So, Danny Phantom and Worm. If you haven't read "Worm" by Wildbow, go look it up on WordPress and read it. It's a good read. So, for the smart readers (all of you, I hope), yes, I am taking each chapter, taking out Taylor, and replacing her with Danny. So, yeah, subplots and character interactions will change. But hey! I'm out of school! UPDATES WILL COME!**

~Slenderbrine


	2. Spectral 1-2

**Spectral 1.2**

I thought about one of my three chief tormentors on my ride home, Emma Barnes. _Emma_ Baxter _Barnes_ , I mentally corrected myself. It was strange, and very surprising, to move from one city to another, and have to deal with the same stuff. There was a big distance between Amity Park, Illinois and Brockton Bay, Massachusetts, but the Baxter family still managed to find me. I let out my annoyance in a sigh.

Whatever. The bullying was really starting to get to me, especially with no form of physical activities I could pour my all into. That form of stress relief had left me when I left Amity Park.

However, there was always…

The bus stopped at my stop, and I shook my head clear of thoughts. I got off of the bus, ignoring the pointed stares of the other passengers, whom took note of my wet backpack and truant nature. The walk was a block away, so I enjoyed myself as I could let my guard drop. Waves of tension melted from my shoulders as I let myself walk at a comfortable pace back home. When I reached home, I let myself in and kicked off my shoes, and then made a beeline for the shower.

I turned it on cold and walked in, reveling in the feeling of the water streaming down my back. Because of my ice core, I was more keen to colder temperatures than warmer temperatures, so an ice cold shower felt great to me. Plus, it left hot water for my sister.

I reflected on the day, but honestly just dismissed the occurrences. My problem at the moment wasn't the bullying, but the stress I had built up. I suppose I could take up some form of martial arts, but my fighting style was more street style than an official style. As well, most humans couldn't handle the sheer power I could throw behind my attacks.

 _Normal_ humans, that is.

I turned off the shower and dried myself off, continuing this line of thinking. Most parahumans, or _capes_ (as the public called them), more more durable than the average human, as well as had powers to fight back.

I made my way to my bedroom, where I changed into a gray t-shirt with Dumpty Humpty's logo in white on the front, and jeans. Then I made my way into the basement of the house, and turned on the lights.

Before our parents left, they took the liberty of upgrading the new house. And by upgrading, I meant _upgrading_. All of the walls were reinforced with ectoranium, a metal alloy created by fusing titanium with refined ectoplasm, turning as hard as diamond. The walls of our normal house just had the stuff in the walls; the house's basement was literally _made_ of the stuff. When my parents researched Endbringers, and found out most attacks occurred on populated coastal cities, they reinforced the basement to the point of being able to survive a nuclear fallout.

I wandered about aimlessly, moving random inventions either Jazz or I had put together in our spare time, before reaching the Ecto-Converter in the back of the room. It was attached to a miniature ghost portal, so anything that came through would just bump up the energy for a while. Not that anything came through was smarter than an ectopus.

The Ecto-Converter gave us a practically infinite amount of power, to the point where if the power fails, we'll be perfectly fine. Our electric bills were comically low, almost all of them never raising over $100.

I pushed a few tables of scrap out of the way before ending up with a small area of space, roughly seven feet in diameter. Checking over both of my shoulders - a habit I had developed and never lost - I felt ready.

"Goin' ghost."

The lab lit up like a firework had gone up. I felt at absolute ease as two rings of light - one at my feet and one at my hair level - came into existence. They began to pass over me, and I felt my entire body chill as ectoplasm overtook the main sequences of my DNA. My heartbeat, which was already half as slow as a normal human's, slowed down to the point where it didn't beat. The hard fabric of my clothes grew soft as it was replaced with my ghostly clothing. I stood a tad bit straighter as power I had not accessed in a while rushed into my system.

The rings continued moving up and down my body, until they passed each other and fizzled out of existence. My gloved hands cracked my knuckles, and I strode over to one wall, where a full body mirror was set up.

A ghost's image was entirely dependent of how they envisioned themselves at the point of their death. Ember saw herself as a diva, so a diva she became. Youngblood died with a childlike imagination, so he became a child who switched costumes. Amorpho considered herself the world's greatest actor, so he could shapeshift however he felt.

I had an advantage over most ghosts when it came to appearances. As a halfa, I had the ability to change my appearance based on how I saw myself. Jazz, as a psychologist, was a key factor in helping him change his mental appearance in his self, and helping his confidence levels.

My new costume was a change is style, but not color scheme. I still had my snow white hair and radioactive green eyes. However, that was all that remained exactly the same. I now wore a black trench coat over a white muscle t-shirt that had a skull design similar to the Punisher, except green in color with red eyes. My bottom half was covered with a pair of black cargo pants, with shiny green chains leading from the sides of my pants into my pockets. My white gloves became fingerless gloves, and my boots became white metal-tipped combat boots.

All in all, I think I looked pretty badass. Jazz thinks I look like a punk, but I think that's her severe dislike of Johnny 13 talking.

I look at and pick up random inventions, stuffing some in the inside pockets of my trench coat, like the collapsable Fenton Creep Stick and the military-grade Fenton Pepper Spray (the only difference with normal militaristic pepper spray was that it worked on ghosts). I shoved these items into my pockets before turning back to my image in the mirror.

After a year and a half of bullying, I had a lot of stress to work off. _That's it_ , I decided, staring myself in the eyes in the mirror. _I'm relieving myself of this right now. This weekend._

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 **[A/N]: So I just spent some time searching up where the heck Brockton Bay can possibly be located. So, after some searching, I found Brockton, MA. Earth Aleph/Bet are in a separate AU from our own, so is it much of a stretch to say that Brockton was founded eastwards of where is stands today, over the aquifer in Plympton? Maybe it is. Whatever. For the sake of the story, Brockton Bay is going to be located in Massachusetts.**

 **Also, for those of you who haven't realized it yet, Phantom Planet never happened. But TUE did, as well as the ghost invasions. For future plot reasons.**

 **~Slenderbrine**


	3. Spectral 1-3

**Spectral 1.3**

For the year and a half I had been in Brockton Bay, I usually went jogging with my sister. We would jog up and down and around the Bay, mainly sticking to the Boardwalk and avoiding the bad parts of town. However, tonight, I would be going just there.

I gathered up the equipment I had chosen to take with me and stuck them into the cargo pants I changed into. I waited at night until I heard my sister's steady breathing down the hall. I got up, grabbed an average gray hoodie, and took to the streets. I had a few snack bars in my pockets and some money if I got thirsty.

It was around midnight when I walked the transition between the nicer part of town the worse part. The buildings around transitioned from clean & well-kept to dirty & graffitied. I kept my head down, ignoring the gangsters and those who sold themselves for drugs. If you looked close enough, they really both could fall together in one category.

The Boardwalk was where the tourists came, and one of the first places I visited when we moved here. It ran north-to-south along the beach, with expensive services such as shops that sold dresses for well over $1K, cafes with ludicrously overpriced coffees, and stretches of wooden walkways and beaches where tourists could get a great view of the ocean. If you stood on the Docks, you could catch a great glimpse of the Protectorate Headquarters (PHQ), one of Brockton Bay's most recognizable landmarks. Besides being every architect's wet dream, the PHQ was a floating base of operations that a squadron of local superheroes called home. It was outfitted with a forcefield bubble and a missile defense system, like our old home used to be (except, you know, it was fitted for ghosts). There had never been occasion for either to be used, but I had to admit, it made you feel safer, from personal experience.

The Docks, as I had mentioned earlier, was located west of the Boardwalk, towards the mainland. When the importing and exporting business in Brockton Bay had dried up, there had been a whole lot of people who were suddenly out of work, as well as a dramatic rise in unemployment. The richest and most resourceful people in town had managed to make more money, turning the city's resources towards technology and banking, but everyone else who had dedicated their lives to the docks and warehouses had little to no options left for them. They faced leaving Brockton Bay, sticking around while scraping up what little work they could, or turning to more illicit activity. Which a lot of them did.

This all contributed to the boom in the local supervillain population, as I learned in Mr. Gladly's World Issues class. The potential for big money coupled with the number of eager-to-please mooks and in-by-the-dozen henchmen made it the city to be for the villains in the late '90s. It took a few years for the hero presence to establish and organize themselves, but when they did, and there was something like a balance between good and evil. As far as cape population went, Brockton Bay anything like Los Angeles or New York, but it was in the top ten.

But, as I said, the closer I got to the Docks, the more the scenery changed. The walls became drab, and the streets slowly became more and more crowded with unconscious drunks and gangsters. I gave most of them wide berth, but those who came close received a death glare, and backed off.

As I walked, I kept an eye out looking for any trouble. I doubted most of the buildings here even had power and the lack of lights in the area was what made me stop and draw myself against the side of a building when I saw a spot of orange in the dark street ahead. The orange that I saw the flame of a lighter, and I was able to make out several faces around it. All of them were Asian, some wearing hoodies, others wearing headbands or long sleeved shirts, but all wore the same two colors: red and green.

I grimaced. I learned that these guys were called the "Azn Bad Boys", or the ABB. Azn was a bit of a shortened and stupid version of the word "Asian", seeing as all members of the ABB were Asian. The ABB had left tags all over the east end of the city, and was where they were found, usually. They were one of the three largest gangs, so they weren't pushovers. They recruited anyone Asian: Japanese, Koreans, Chinese, etc. Most recruits were forced into the gang, and people didn't just up and leave the gang, in fear of pissing off the powered leaders of the ABB.

I smirked upon remembering that last fact. There might be some aggression to be worked off tonight after all.

The street was unlit, but that didn't limit my ability to see, thanks to my enhanced senses. I started actively looking for their boss, desperately hoping for someone who could be a good fight. There were more gang members coming out of a two-story building, and they were gathering in the street. They didn't appear have the atmosphere of people who were just hanging out, either. They were expressionless or scowling, and they weren't talking.

Finally, I managed to make out their boss as the gang pulled away from the door of the building to give him room. I only knew about this guy from what I had heard on the news and read online, but I recognized him almost immediately. He was a big guy, but not nearly as big as Jack Fenton, like some people with powers were. He was a little over six feet, though, which put him head and shoulders above most of the gang members. He had an ornate metal mask that covered his face, and wasn't wearing a shirt, despite the chill in the air (that I couldn't feel). Sprawling tattoos covered his body from the neck down, all depicting dragons from Eastern mythology.

I smiled, ready for a good fight. He went by 'Lung', which roughly means 'Dragon' in Chinese. This guy had successfully gone toe to toe with whole teams of heroes and had managed to keep himself out of jail, as evidenced by his presence here. As for his powers, I only knew what I could scrounge up online, and there were no guarantees there.I assumed it was something to do with dragons, seeing his appearance and name. Maybe he blew fire? I didn't care, much. I knew he was tough, and a heavy hitter, which was good enough for me.

Lung wasn't the only one with powers in the ABB, apparently. He had a flunky, a scary sociopath called Oni Lee, who could teleport or create doubles of himself – I wasn't a hundred percent sure on the details – but Oni Lee had a distinctive look, and I didn't see him in the crowd. If there was anyone else with powers that I needed to watch out for, I hadn't seen or heard anything about them in my research.

Lung began talking in a deep, commanding voice. I couldn't make out the words _exactly_ , but it sounded like he was giving instructions. As I watched, one of the gang members drew a butterfly knife from his pocket, and another one of them put his hand on his waistband. Despite the gloom and the fact that I was standing half a block away, I could see the shape of a gun handle sticking out of his waistband. My pulse sped up a bit as I saw the gun, which was silly. You can't kill what you can't hit.

I decided to move away from where I was and find a better vantage point to monitor their conversation, which seemed like a good idea, as opposed to moving forward to expose myself. I slowly backed away from where I was, glancing over my shoulder to make sure nobody was watching, and then circled around the rear of the building I was lurking beside. I went ghost and floated up to the top of the building..

The roof was covered in gravel and cigarette butts, but it didn't matter; I didn't make any noise as I floated over it. I suppose I could've gone invisible and snuck into the crowd, but having a vantage point is always helpful when dealing with an enemy. As I neared the part of the roof directly above Lung and his gang of wannabe Asian gangsters, I inched closer to the edge and leaned over. It was dark enough that I doubted they would see me if I jumped up and down and waved my arms, but there was no reason to be a total idiot.

Being at the top of a two story building when they were on the ground floor made it hard to hear them. However, with my enhanced hearing, it was a lot easier. Unfortunately, Lung had a strong accent, which meant I had to wait until he had spoken a few sentences before I could figure out what he was saying. It helped that the idiots following him were utterly, respectfully silent as their leader spoke.

Lung was snarling, "…if you see the children, just shoot. Doesn't matter your aim, just shoot. You see one lying on the ground? Shoot the little shit twice more to be sure. We give them no chances to be clever or lucky, understand?"

There was a murmur of assent and nods.

Someone else lit up a cigarette, and then leaned over to light a cigarette for the guy next to him. In those moments that his hand wasn't cupped around the flame, I could see the gathered faces of just a dozen or so of the gangsters gathered around Lung. In hands, waistbands and holsters, I could see the dark metal of guns reflecting the orange flame. If I had to fire off a random guess, all of them probably had weapons.

Wait a sec.

Did that asshole just say he was gonna kill _kids_?

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 **[A/N]: Fun fact: I'm writing this for my own personal experience, not to please a general audience. If you get pleased, thanks for liking my writing! If you don't I really don't care because I'm not one to cater to my readers. My story, my plot, my rules. Boom.**

 **~Slenderbrine**


	4. Spectral 1-4

**Spectral 1.4**

"Well," I said aloud, announcing my presence. The Azn Bad Boys and Lung looked up to me, who stood on top the building. I hopped off the ledge and fell directly in between two of the gun-toting thugs. Before they could react, I opened my arms, as if welcoming Lung. The mooks collided with my fists and got knocked backwards, unconscious.

"I've been looking for a bit of fight as of late," I continued. A few thugs thought it would be a good idea to rush me instead of shoot me. The first one who reached me attempted to pistol whip me. I caught the incoming gun and punched his solar plexus, before knocking him on the temple. The next two thugs got caught by my hands, and I slammed them together. They crumpled to my feet. I looked down at the unconscious men, and I looked up at the other twenty or so thugs, and Lung.

"And I figured I'd get in trouble if I fought a random cape without reason," I went on. I grabbed the nearest thug and headbutted him, knocking him out. I grabbed the gun from the falling mook, unloaded the clip, and chucked it at a random henchman. It hit him on the temple, putting him to sleep.

"Then I found you," I continued. Lung hadn't made a move yet, other than standing at attention. A few of the thugs grew uneasy at the fact someone was taking out their friends. The smirk on my face grew exponentially as a raised my fist outwards at a certain group of four or five Asian mooks at the edge of the gathering. He let an ecto blast fly off, knock the entire group back and out. Everyone jumped, minus Lung, but he still took a step back.

All the thugs get scared at the sight of an enemy cape.

Lung smirked, and took a step forward, wordlessly accepting my challenge. "Go," he said aloud in his strong accent, "find those brats. I'll take care of this."

I watched as the thugs dispersed, leaving me and Lung standing alone in the middle of the streets. I turned my attention back to my opponent at hand, raising an eyebrow. Triangular plates of metal began piercing through Lung's skin, overlapping like scales. The man's fingertips and toes were quickly becoming that of similar to talons.

I was about to let loose on the guy before he exploded. Not with rage. No, the guy literally went _boom_.

I coughed out some smoke, and waved my hands in the air, trying to clear the smoke. I squinted, watching Lung walk out of the ball of flame, as one himself. The fire around him glinted off of his silvery scales, as his gaze narrowed in on me. I grinned, and cracked my knuckles. "Hello, parahuman stress ball," I greeted.

Lung roared at me. It was not animalistic as I expected, but a human one full of rage and fury. He sent out a burst of fire, which felt hotter to me than it already was because of my ice core. I dodged out of the way to keep up this game, not wanting it to end. I came out of my roll crouching, and let off a beam of green fire. The ecto blast caught him in the chest, and forced him to take a step backwards to keep himself upright.

I ran at Lung, while he was distracted, and through a charged punch directly at his core. The dragon man's eyes popped out almost comically as he was sent flying backwards into an abandoned (thankfully) warehouse. He stood up, disorientated, and I smiled seeing the fist-shaped dent in the center of Lung's stomach.

He stood up again and roared at me once more, this time dropping in pitch. His body swelled, shaking off plaster and debris, as the Asian cape grew a foot in height. I watched in disbelief as spines grew down the seven-foot monster's back.

 _Geez_ , I thought, _it's like fighting a more powerful Aragon._ The thought made me grin.

"Bring it on!" I yelled in anticipation. And bring it on, he did.

Lung opened his mouth and let loose a blast of fire. I put up a green shield, watching the red flames lick around the edges, like a kid working a lollipop. He set himself forward and began staggering, but quickly running, towards me. I dropped my shield and ran towards my opponent as well.

Knowing the area around Lung was likely to be as hot as hell, I used my cryokinesis to chill the air around me to subzero temperatures. Our punches collided and a shockwave exploded. Dust kicked up, spreading outwards in a circular fashion. Streetlights vibrated as air was forcefully expelled outwards. Lung and I got pushed back a good ten feet away from each other. I looked around and noted the red lights of multiple cameras recording the fight.

 _This better get over a million views on YouTube_ , I thought, smirking inwards. My Fenton Creep Stick wouldn't work well in this situation, nor anything else I had brought with me. I watched as Lung calmly made his way over to me. Now standing at a whopping nine feet tall, covered absolutely everywhere in fiery metal. His eyes were almond pools of molten iron, staring me down. My radioactive green eyes met his, and he unleashed an incredible burst of fire.

Decidedly tired of playing the 'I'm As Good As You Are' game, I turned intangible. I looked around myself in interest as the fire was so hot, it was actually melting the street. "Bernnn...keckshercker…" I heard Lung rumble out. I think he was insulting me, but with all that metal and accent in the way, I couldn't tell.

The fire died away, and I watched Lung's eyes widen as he saw me, perfectly unsinged. I raised my own fists, covered with bright blue energy.

"My turn."

I let my cryokinesis loose as the icy blue beams hit Lung at the knees. Ecto-ice quickly began forming, locking his feet to the ground. The ice quickly began spreading, growing up his legs. But despite his best efforts, Lung couldn't melt the ice. It continued to grow over the now-shrieking monster of a human, until it had finally encased the entire cape. I lowered my arms and let out a breath, feeling stress leave my body.

"That felt great," I said aloud, not expecting a response. A year and a half of stress just went into the comedic owning of a metal-plated monster.

"It sure seemed like it," a voice commented behind me. Forcing myself not to jump, I turned around to be greeted with three monstrous dogs. How did I know these creatures of muscle and bone the size of vans were actually dogs?

I met Cujo.

On two of the dogs, there were riders. Two girls on one dog, and two guys on the other. I assume the person with no skin showing was male, considering his height. "You really saved us a lot of trouble," the tallest person told me. His voice was deep and indeed male, but muffled by the helmet he wore. He was dressed entirely in black, a costume I realized was basically motorcycle leathers and a motorcycle helmet. The only thing that made me think it was a costume was the visor of his helmet. The full-face visor was sculpted to look like a stylized skull, and was as black as the rest of his costume, with only the faint highlights of reflected light on the surface to give a sense of what it was. It was one of those costumes that people put together out of what they can scrounge up, and it wasn't half bad if you didn't look too close. He reached out a hand towards me, and I shook it.

Withdrawing his hand, the man in black jerked his thumb over one shoulder, "When we got word Lung was aiming to come after us tonight, we were pretty freaked. We were arguing strategy for the better part of the day. We eventually decided, fuck it, we'd meet him halfway. Wing it. Not my usual way of doing things, but yeah."

"So you're the kids Lung was planning on trying to kill tonight," I casually commented. He nodded in confirmation. 

The guy in black, who I would nickname Skull Face for the time being, kept talking. "Wouldn't you know, his flunky Lee is there with a half dozen guys, but Lung and the rest of his gang are nowhere to be found," he laughed, a surprisingly normal sound for someone wearing a mask with a skull on it.

"Lee's no slouch in a fight, but there's a reason he's not leader of the ABB. He got spooked without his boss there and ran. I guess you're responsible for that?" Skull Face waited for a response from me. When I nodded, he turned towards Brockton Bay's newest ice sculpture, then spoke without turning to look at me, "Lung got fucking creamed. The fuck you do to him?"

"Beat him up with physical force, used some type of blasts on him, and then froze him," the second of the girls said, answering the question before I could get a word in otherwise. She was dressed in a skintight outfit that combined black with a pale shade of purple and her dark blond hair was long and windblown. The girl grinned as she added, "He's not holding up too well. Gonna feel a helluvalot worse tomorrow."

I shrugged. "Frostbite will do that to you," I joked, and she laughed.

The man in black suddenly turned to look at me, "Introductions. That's Tattletale. I'm Grue. The girl with the dogs-" he pointed to the other girl, the one who was still on the monstrous dogs, and petting them. She wasn't in costume unless I counted a plaid skirt, army boots, a torn-up sleeveless T-shirt and a hard plastic, dollar-store rottweiler mask as a costume. "-we call her Bitch, her preference, but in the interests of being P.G., the good guys and media decided to call her Hellhound instead. Last and certainly least, we have Regent."

"Fuck you, Grue," Regent retorted, with a chuckle and a tone of voice that made it clear he didn't really care. He was wearing a white mask, not really decorative or made up as the ones I associated with the carnivals in Venice, but similar. He'd placed a silver coronet around his short black curls, and wore a ruffled white shirt with skintight leggings tucked into knee-high boots. The outfit was very renaissance faire; he'd fit in great with Dora's royal court. He had a build that made me think more of a dancer than a bodybuilder.

"Nice to meet ya'," I greeted, nodding to them in turn. I had prepared a name in case I needed one, a name that was not remotely close to either 'Phantom' or 'Inviso-Bill'. I really hate that name.

"I'm Agloolik," I greeted. Grue snorted from within his helmet. "You just made that word up," he accused good-naturedly. I shook my head and grinned.

"A-G-L-O-O-L-I-K," I spelled out for him. "Look it up some time."

Tattletale turned around and it looked like she was going to say something else, but she stopped, turning her head. The smile she'd been wearing faded, "Heads up. We've gotta scram."

Bitch nodded in response and whistled, one short whistle followed by two long ones. After a brief pause, the road was suddenly shaking by impacts. In just moments, the three creatures of hers bounded from where they were 'parked' over to next to the quartet.

Grue turned towards me. I was still standing on the opposite end of the roof, by the fire escape. "Hey, want a ride?"

"Nah," I refused. "I'm gonna stick around a bit longer."

"Well, 'Gloo, a cape is gonna show up in less than a minute. You did us a solid by dealing with Lung, so take my advice. Someone from the Protectorate shows up, finds two bad guys duking it out, they're not going to let one walk away. You should get out of here," she said. Tattletale flashed me a smile. She had one of those vulpine grins that turned up at the corners. Behind her simple black domino style mask, her eyes were glittering with mischief. If she had red hair, she would have made me think of a fox. She kind of did, anyways.

With that, they leaped over my head, one of the three beasts hitting or stepping on a manhole cover, eliciting a screech of metal on metal.

When I realized what had just happened, I could have sighed, seeing my luck turn out this way. The good ol' Fenton luck. It was easy enough to pin down Regent, Tattletale and Bitch as teenagers. It wasn't much of an intuitive leap to guess that Grue had been one too. The 'children' Lung had mentioned, the ones I had gone to so much effort to save tonight, were bad guys. Not only that, but they had mistaken me for one, too.

 _Well, time to meet the locals_ , I thought.

[][][][][]

 **[A/N]: Two more chapters to go before the end of the first arc.**

 **~Slenderbrine**


	5. Spectral 1-5

**Spectral 1.5**

My ears picked out the sound of a souped up motorcycle before my eyes saw it. I knew that fleeing from a scene tended to make people come to the assumption that you were a bad guy, a label didn't think I wanted at the time. Plus, it's always good to have a rest after a well-fought fight.

I felt exhausted, but giddy after the fight with Lung. _I must be out of practice_ , I thought. I watched with half-lidded eyes, leaning against a street lamp, as Armsmaster rolled up to the scene.

Out of the many superhero organizations all over the world, the Protectorate was the largest. It spanned all of Canada and the US, with talks of expanding to Mexico. It was a government sponsored organization, one with bases stationed in every major city in North America, currently barring Mexico. Brockton Bay's Protectorate group was officially called the 'Protectorate East-North-East', and whose headquarters were the floating fortress that could be seen from the Docks and the Boardwalk. The Protectorate ENE team was lead by this guy, Armsmaster. If you ever see a picture of the core members of the Protectorate standing in one of those V-shaped formations, chances were you'd see this hero in the wings. Hell, he had his own poseable action figures.

 _I never got an action figure_ , I thought, half bitterly, half jokingly.

He really did look like a superhero, not like some guy in a costume. It was an important distinction, as first impressions are everything. He wore body armor, dark blue with silver highlights, had a sharply angled v-shaped visor covering his eyes and nose. With only the lower half of his face exposed, I could see a beard trimmed to trace the edges of his jaw. If I had to judge, with only the lower half of his face to go by, I'd guess he was in his late twenties or early thirties.

His trademark and weapon was his halberd; it was basically just a spear with an axe head on the end of it, but it was littered with gadgets and technology I'd love to get my hands on. Armsmaster was the kind of guy who showed up on magazine covers and did live interviews, so finding info on the guy wasn't hard. I knew a little bit about what his halberd could do; it could cut through steel, shoot plasma, and fire off EMPs. It was awesome, and I _so_ wanted one.

"You gonna fight me?" the hero called out.

"Nah," I said, shaking my head. "I'm just a little rogue, making his merry way."

"You're telling the truth," he said. It was a definitive statement, which made me narrow my eyes. I didn't have pumping blood to be cold read, so he must have some type of lie detector built into his armor.

He approached closer, looking me over as I leaned against the streetlamp with my arms folded over my arms. He asked me, "Are you hurt?"

"Nah," I said. I pointed my thumb at the frozen statue of Lung. "You should see the other guy."

"You're a new face," he observed.

"Yep," I confirmed. "The name's Agloolik. And before you ask, no, I did not make that word up."

He chuckled, and it sounded warm, very normal, "I'll take your word for it."

"If you're looking for a team to join up, there is always the Wards," Armsmaster offered.

I nodded, more to give a response than out of any agreement with the answer. The Wards were the under-eighteen subdivision of the Protectorate, and Brockton Bay did have its own team of Wards, with the same naming convention as the Protectorate; The Wards East-North-East. I had considered applying to join, but the notion of escaping the stresses of high school by flinging myself into a mess of teenage drama, adult oversight and schedules seemed self-defeating.

"You grab Lung yet?" I asked, to change the subject from the Wards. I was pretty sure that he was obligated to try and induct new heroes into either the Protectorate or the Wards, depending on their age, to promote the whole agenda of organized heroes who are accountable for their actions, and I really didn't want him to get on my case about joining.

"Lung was frozen solid, beaten and battered when I arrived. I temporarily restrained him under a steel cage I welded to the sidewalk. I'll pick him up on my way back."

"He won't be getting out of that ice until I choose for him to," I said, "That ice only melts when I give the word, which I will in an hour or so. Only reason I started the fight was because I overheard him telling his men to shoot some kids. I realized later that he was talking about some other villains."

Armsmaster turned to look at me. So I told him, walking him through the fight in general, the arrival of the teenage bad guys, and their general descriptions. Before I finished, he was pacing back and forth on the pavement. My eyes wandered and I noticed there were some people who were _still_ recording. _Credit for that determination_ , I thought.

"These guys. They knew I was coming?"

I nodded, once. As much respect as I had for the hero, I wasn't in much of a mood to repeat myself.

"That explains a lot," he said, staring off into the distance. After a few moments, he went on to explain, "They're slippery. On those few occasions we do manage to get in a toe to toe fight with them, they either win, or they get away more or less unscathed, or both. We know so little about them. Grue and Hellhound were working on their own before they joined the group, so there's some information there, but the other two? They're nonentities. If the girl Tattletale has some way of detecting or tracking us, it would go a long way towards explaining why they're doing as well as they are."

It kind of surprised me to hear one of the top level heroes admitting to being anything less than perfectly on top of things, but that was good. That means they weren't about to be blinded by their own egos.

"It's funny," I said, after a few moment's thought, "They didn't seem that hardcore. Grue said they were kind of panicking when they heard Lung was coming after them, and they were casually joking around while the fight was going on. Grue was making fun of Regent. None of them even seemed like the 'villainous' type, bar maybe Regent."

"They said all this in front of you?" he asked.

I shrugged, "I think they thought I was helping them out. The way Tattletale talked, I think she thought I was a bad guy too or something." With a touch of bitterness, I said, "Dunno, I guess it was the fact I beat Lung's ass in."

"Could you have taken them in a fight?" Armsmaster asked me.

"Probably," I stated with certainty. I started to shrug, and winced a little. I was feeling a little sore in the shoulder, where I'd punched Lung's flame-covered metal stomach. I continued, "Like you said, we don't know a lot about them, but maybe Regent or Tattletale had some ability that could've blindsided me."

"Then count it as a good thing that they got the wrong impression," Armsmaster offered.

"I'll try to look at it that way," I said, struck by how he easily he was able to employ the whole 'take a negative and turn it into a positive' mindset I'd been trying to maintain. I envied that.

"Alright," he said, "and while we're looking forward, we need to decide where we go from here."

My heart sank. I knew he was going to bring up the Wards again.

"Who gets the credit for Lung?"

Caught off guard, I stared at him. I started to speak, but he held up his hand.

"Hear me out. What you've done tonight is spectacular. You played a part in getting a major villain into custody. You just need to consider the consequences."

"Consequences," I muttered, even as the word spectacular rang in my ears.

"Lung has an extensive gang throughout Brockton Bay and neighboring cities. More than that, he has two superpowered helpers: Oni Lee and Bakuda."

I shook my head, "I know about Oni Lee, and Grue mentioned fighting him. I've never heard of Bakuda."

Armsmaster nodded, "Not surprising. She's new. What we know about her is limited. She made her first appearance and demonstration of her powers by way of a drawn out terrorism campaign against Cornell University. Lung apparently recruited her and brought her to Brockton Bay after her plans were foiled by the New York Protectorate. This is… something of a concern."

"What are her powers?"

"Are you aware of the Tinker classification?"

I started to shrug, but remembered my sore shoulder and nodded instead. It was probably more polite, too. I said, "Covers anyone with powers that give them an advanced grasp of science. Lets them make technology years ahead of its time. Ray guns, ice blasters, mechanized suits of armor, advanced computers. Anything that looks like it belongs in a science fiction novel."

"Close enough," Armsmaster said. It struck me he would be a Tinker, if his halberd and armor were any indication. That, or he got his stuff from someone else. He elaborated, "Well, most Tinkers have a specialty or a special trick. Something they're particularly good at or something that they can do, which other Tinkers can't. Bakuda's specialty is bombs."

I stared at him. _Geez_ , I thought. A woman with a power that let her make bombs that were technologically decades ahead of their time. No wonder he saw it as a concern.

"Now I want you to consider the danger involved in taking the credit for Lung's capture. Without a doubt, Oni Lee and Bakuda will be looking to accomplish two goals. Freeing their boss and getting vengeance on the one responsible. I suspect you're now aware… these are scary people. Scarier in some ways than their boss."

"You're saying I shouldn't take the credit," I said.

"I'm saying you have two options. Option one is to join the Wards, where you'll have support and protection in the event of an altercation. Option two is to keep your head down. Don't take the credit. Fly under the radar."

I shook my head and laughed, catching him off guard. I pushed off the side of the metal post to stand up by myself. Standing straight, I gestured my arms to the open area around us. "A little late for that, Armsy," I said, giving the badass hero a cutesy nickname.

"If you haven't noticed yet," I continued, "people having been recording the fight. And the two of us conversing. If you stroll in and take the credit, one good look at this video would spill the truth."

He looked around, noticing the bright red lights of recording cameras. He smiled, which I hadn't expected. He had a nice smile. It made me think that he could win the hearts of a lot of women, whatever the top two-thirds of his face looked like. "I suppose your right," Armsmaster said, turning to walk back to his motorcycle. "Call me at the PHQ if you're ever in a pinch." He mounted his motorcycle.

"Hey, Armsy!"

He turned his head back to me, mouth somewhere between the lines of an amused smile and a grimace.

I tapped my right wrist. "You have an hour before Lung thaws out," I warned. He nodded, and sped off into the night.

Call me if you're ever in a pinch. I'd earned his respect, without the man actually saying it. Armsmaster knew I wasn't a guy to be trifled with, and actively made a point to mention it.

I closed my eyes, and I heard the thrum of his motorcycle, presumably carrying Lung towards a life of confinement. I could hope.

It would take me a half hour to get home. On the way, I would stop to grab a drink to go with my snacks. I was a bit hungry and thirsty after that fight.

It could have gone worse. Strange as it sounds, those words were a security blanket I wrapped around myself to keep myself from dwelling on the fact that tomorrow was a school day.

[][][][][]

 **[A/N]: One interlude after this chapter, and were done with the first arc! :D**

 **~Slenderbrine**


	6. Spectral 1-X

**Spectral 1.X**

 _Interlude: Jazz_

"We don't know how long he had been there. Suspended in the air above the Atlantic Ocean. On May twentieth, 1982, an ocean liner was crossing from Plymouth to Boston when a passenger spotted him. He was naked, his arms to his sides, his long hair blowing in the wind as he stood in the sky, nearly a hundred feet above the gently cresting waves. His skin and hair can only be described as a burnished gold. With neither body hair nor clothes to cover him, it is said, he seemed almost artificial.

"After a discussion including passenger and crew, the liner detoured to get closer. It was a sunny day, and passengers crowded to the railings to get a better look. As if sharing their curiosity, the figure drew closer as well. His expression was unchanging, but witnesses at the scene reported that he appeared deeply sad.

"'I thought he was going to crack his facade and cry any moment', said Grace Lands, 'but when I reached out and touched his fingertips, I was the one who burst into tears.'

"'That boat trip was a final journey for me. I had cancer, and I wasn't brave enough to face it. Can't believe I'm admitting this in front of a camera, but I was going back to Boston, where I was born, to end things myself. After I met him, I changed my mind. Didn't matter anyways. I went to a doctor, and he said there was no sign I ever had the disease.'

"'My brother, Andrew Hawke, was the last passenger to make any sort of contact with him, I remember. He climbed up onto the railing, and, almost falling off, he clasped the hand of the golden man. The rest of us had to grab onto him to keep him from falling. Whatever happened left him with a quiet awe. When the man with the golden skin flew away, my brother stayed silent. The rest of the way to Boston, my brother didn't say a word. When we docked, and the spell finally broke, my brother babbled his excitement to reporters like a child.'

"The golden man would reappear several more times in the coming months and years. At some point, he donned clothing. At first, a sheet worn over one shoulder and pinned at either side of the waist, then more conventional clothes. In 1999, he donned the white bodysuit he still wears today. For more than a decade, we have wondered, where did our golden man get these things? Who was he in contact with?

"Periodically at first, then with an increasing frequency, the golden man started to intervene in times of crisis. For events as small as a car accident, as great as natural disasters, he has arrived and used his abilities to save us. A flash of light to freeze water reinforcing a levee stressed by a hurricane. A terrorist act averted. A serial murderer caught. A volcano quelled. Miracles, it was said.

"His pace increased, perhaps because he was still learning what he could do, perhaps because he was getting a greater sense of where he was needed. By the middle of the 1990s, he was traveling from crisis to crisis, flying faster than the speed of sound. In fifteen years, he has not rested.

"He has been known to speak just once in thirty years. After extinguishing widespread fire in Alexandrovsk, he paused to survey the scene and be sure no blazes remained. A reporter spoke to him, and asked, 'Kto vy?' – what are you?

"Shocking the world, caught on camera in a scene replayed innumerable times, he answered in a voice that sounded as though it might never have uttered a sound before. Barely audible, he told her, 'Scion'.

"It became the name we used for him. Ironic, because we took a word that meant descendant, and used it to name the first of many superpowered individuals – parahumans – to appear across Earth.

"Just five years after Scion's first appearance, the superheroes emerged from the cover of rumor and secrecy to show themselves to the public. Though the villains followed soon after, it was the heroes who shattered any illusions of the parahumans being divine figures. In 1989, attempting to quell a riot over a basketball game in Michigan, the superhero known to the public as Vikare stepped in, only to be clubbed over the head. He died not long after of a brain embolism. Later, he would be revealed to be Andrew Hawke.

"The golden age of the parahumans was thus short lived. They were not the deific figures they had appeared to be. Parahumans were, after all, people with powers, and people are flawed at their core. Government agencies took a firmer hand, and state-"

The television flicked off, and the screen went black, cutting the documentary off mid-sentence. Jasmine 'Jazz' Fenton sighed and sat down on the bed, only to stand just a moment later and resume pacing.

It was 3:15 in the morning, and her brother, Danny, was not in her bedroom.

Jazz ran his hands through her orange hair, which was at length down to her shoulders. She liked to be the first to arrive at work, watching everyone arrive, having them know she was there to help. So she usually went to bed early; she'd turn in at ten in the evening, give or take depending on what was on TV. Only tonight, a little past midnight, she'd been disturbed from restless sleep when she had felt rather than heard the shutting of the back door of the house, just below her bedroom. She had checked on her brother, and she'd found his room empty.

So she had waited for her baby brother to return for three hours.

Countless times, she had glanced out the window, hoping to see Danny coming in.

It wasn't like she was worried for Danny, or any trouble he might run into. No, she knew him better than that, and would be more worried for her brother's opponents, knowing he could take care of himself. What Jazz was really worried about was _why_ her brother had left in the middle of the night. She knew Danny hadn't done much hero work since they had to leave Amity Park. She'd be fine with it, Jazz just wished he would tell her he was doing it before going out.

Jazz heard the back door open and heard Danny's footsteps lightly tap on the kitchen's tile. She knew it was Danny because Cujo gave a happy yip downstairs. Jazz considered confronting her brother now, but it was very late.

She'd talk to her brother in the morning.

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 **[A/N]: Wooo! Finished the first arc of Deceased! Can't wait to start writing the next arc; I'll probably start tomorrow. It should be noted because of the relations between Danny and Jazz, as well as the characters themselves, the story will take a few different turns then canon, some more drastic than others, since they are two new characters. Just a warning.**

 **I'd love to thank the following lovely people for either favoriting, following, or both:** _ **4mus3d, AcrossBeginningCharacteristics, Bobboky, ShadowlessNight, ShiraYukiShadow, Fokdal, Harpy81, IReallyHaveNoPreference, Ognna, TotallyDemonic, WyattMorgan, aizen the III, anubas, kitkatkate2008, nightmaster000, razminr11, urielv59, and yuu1202**_ **!** **Thanks for liking my story!**

 **~Slenderbrine**


	7. Daemons 2-1

**Daemons 2.1**

I woke to the muffled sound of the shower shutting off in the bathroom. Reaching over to my alarm clock, I turned it around. 6:34, it read. Which made today a weekday like any other. My alarm was set for six thirty, but I usually didn't need it. I suppose it had been a while since I went out with my powers.

As a wave of fatigue swept over me, I wondered if I was more out of practice than I thought I was. It took me a few moments of staring up at the ceiling before I was able to force myself out of bed. As a slave to my routine, it would be wrong to do otherwise. I made myself change into sweats and walk down to the kitchen sink to wash my face, fighting to keep awake. The ice cold water was very refreshing. I was sitting at the kitchen table, pulling on my sneakers, when my older sister came downstairs in her usual clothes.

My sister is what some might call attractive, but I wouldn't know, being the younger brother and all. Athletically thin, confident posture, shoulder-length orange hair, and brilliant aqua blue eyes. She sported her traditional long-sleeve, black v-neck and light blue pants. As she entered the kitchen adjusting her light blue headband, she looked unsurprised to see me there. That's just the way my sister always looked: confident of everything she does, and affirmative of her actions.

"Good morning, Danny," she said, entering the kitchen and leaning down to hug me

"Hey, Jazz."

She was already stepping towards the fridge as I replied. She looked over his shoulder, "A little tired?"

I lazily lifted my head. "Hunh?" I muttered out.

"You sound sleepy," he said.

I shook my head. "I am. Long night," I explained.

There was the satisfying slap of bacon hitting the frying pan. Tucker would've loved to be sitting where I was right now. It was sizzling by the time she spoke, "You know, you could go back to bed, sleep in for another hour or so. You don't have to go on your run."

I smiled. It was equal parts annoying and sweet, that my sister was mother hen-ing me. She worried about my safety, despite knowing I could probably take on the Triumvirate if I was in top shape. It could get a little annoying, but it was a part of what made Jazz herself, and I loved her for it.

"You know I will, Jazzypants," I said, using Dad's nickname for her. I saw her smile at that. "If I don't go today, it'll be that much harder to make myself get up and do it tomorrow."

"You've got the pepper spray?"

"I've got the tube in my pocket," I said, patting my sweatpants' right pocket. She bobbed her head in acknowledgement. "O.J.?" he asked. I shook my head

"I'm feeling like apple juice today," I said, heading to the fridge for the apple juice. While I was at the fridge, I also grabbed some applesauce. As I returned to the table, my sister added some french toast on the frying pan to join the bacon. The room filled with the aroma of the cooking food. I helped myself to the applesauce.

We ate in silence for a minute or two.

"I heard you come in late last night," she said.

I just gave him a small nod and took another bite of french toast, even as my heart rate tripled and my mind searched for excuses. Then I remembered my sister was the expert psychologist, who'd pick apart my excuses like a Lego creation. So, I told the truth.

I sighed, exhaling loudly. My sister glanced at me, concerned.

"You know how some kids are trying to bully me and stuff?" I asked. Jazz's face hardened as she nodded. "And your school isn't doing anything about it," she added. Not a question, but a statement.

I made a noise of agreement. "Yeah," I said. "Well, the campaign has been going on for roughly a year and a half, and that builds up a lot of stress. I used to be able to deal with those levels of stress by taking on ghosts, but now…"

"We don't live in Amity Park anymore," Jazz finished for me. I nodded, and she sighed. "So what did you do last night?" she asked, fearing the answer.

"I went out and fought some capes," I said, confirming what Jazz had in mind.

Jazz looked into my own electric blue eyes. "You didn't hurt anyone too badly, did you?"

"Nah, I fought a supervillain named Lung. He was pretty tough, so I didn't leave much damage on him," I said dismissively, waving off my sister's concerns. "I heard he was going to kill kids, so I laid down some hurt on him, but found out later that those 'kids' were actually some other teenaged villains."

"So, you've become a hero again?" Jazz said, attempting to summarize my nightly escapade.

"That's the thing," I said. "The Undersiders ‒ that's the name of the teenage parahuman villain group, by the way ‒ thought I was a villain, and offered me a place on the team. Then Armsmaster showed up and offered me a spot on the Wards. So, right now, I'm technically a Rogue."

Jazz thought for a moment. "Who are you going to take up?"

I looked at her, surprised she picked it up, when she rolled her eyes. "Danny," she began, "if you had taken up Armsmaster's offer of joining the Wards, you would've started with it. What are you planning to do?"

"I was actually thinking about joining the Undersiders," I said, with Jazz sending me a look, expecting more information. I complied.

"None of them act like they're 'hardcore villain' types," I started, trying to find my train of thought. "Tattletale stands away from the group, like she's just joined recently. Hellhound, or Bitch (as she prefers), just seemed to be socially awkward, like she was missing social cues. Grue said the team was panicking when they found out Lung was coming after them, which isn't something a villain group would normally admit. Regent might be an actual villain, but he didn't act out much."

Jazz sat in silence for a moment, thinking. Then she turned to me. "And you want to join them...why?"

I shrugged. "I wanna figure out why this group of people are acting as villains. Maybe they're being forced or threatened," I explained.

Jazz sighed, and smiled. "So you're being a villain, because of your hero complex," she reasoned. I laughed awkwardly and scratched the back of my head. "Yeah…"

"Alright," she continued. "And what name did you come up with?"

"Name?"

"Name, as in cape name."

"Oh," I said. "Agloolik."

"Agloolik," she said, testing out the syllables. "Not exactly threatening. Where's it from?"

"Inuit mythology," I explained. "It's a spirit that lives underneath the ice and grants fishermen with fish and prizes from the depths."

"Hm," Jazz hummed. "Fits you."

"Thanks," I said.

"Going on your run?"

"Yeah," I said, put my dishes in the ectoplasm-powered dishwasher and bent down to give my dad a hug on my way to the door.

"Danny, why do you smell like smoke?"

I turned my head to face Jazz, confusion on my face.

"Your hair is, uh, burnt. At the ends, there."

I thought back to the previous night. Getting clipped by one of Lung's blasts of flame.

Shrugging, I said, "Lung had some pyrokinesis." Jazz nodded in understanding.

"Be safe," my sister said, emphasizing each word. I took that as my cue to go, heading out the side door and breaking into an all out run as soon as I was past the chain link gate at the side of the house.

[][][][][]

The run had helped to wake me up, as did the hot shower and a cup of the coffee my sister had brewed for me, to wake me up. Even so, the fatigue didn't seem to help the troubling feeling I knew I'd encounter as I made my way to school. Just a matter of hours ago, I had been in a life and death fight, I had even met Armsmaster. Now, I was going to have to put up with high school bullies again.

I felt a bit nervous as I got to homeroom. Having basically skipped two classes the previous Friday, failing to turn in a major assignment, I figured that Mrs. Knott probably knew already. I didn't feel relieved when Mrs. Knott glanced up at me and gave a tight smile before turning her attention back to her computer. That just meant the humiliation would be redoubled if and when class was interrupted by someone coming down from the office. A part of me just wanted to miss this class too, just to avoid the potential humiliation and avoid drawing attention, but I enjoyed my conputer class to much to do that.

All in all, I felt anxious as I made my way to my computer, which kind of sucked because computer class was one of the few parts of the school day I didn't usually dread. For one thing, it was the one class in which I was doing well; my parents had imparted their knowledge of coding into me, and Tucker had given me a few pointers as well. More to the point, none of my main bullies were in this class, though some of their friends were. Those guys and gals didn't usually feel the need to harass me without the trio around, and I was further removed from them because I was in the advanced stream of the class.

A good three quarters of the people in the room were computer illiterate, being from families that didn't have the money for computers or families that didn't have much interest in the things, so they practiced typing without looking at the keyboard and had lessons in using search engines. However, I bet none of the people here ever coded their own interdimensional probe, or attempted to hack a government database so secret less than 1% of the USA knew it existed.

Mrs. Knott was a tallish, broad shouldered and strong jawed woman. She kind of looked like a caricature of a transvestite with her long blond hair and trying-too-hard-to-be-girly dress and blouse. You just had to imagine her with stubble on her chin or hairy legs and she was the image of a man doing a very bad job at passing as a woman. She was an alright teacher though; she was usually content to give us advanced students an in-class assignment and then focus on the more rambunctious majority for the rest of the class. This suited me just fine – I usually wrapped up the assignment in a half hour, leaving me an hour to use as I saw fit. I had been recalling and going over the events of the previous night during my morning run, and the first thing that I did when the ancient desktop finished its agonizing load process was to start digging for information.

The go-to place for news and discussion on capes was Parahumans Online. The front page had constant updates on recent, international news featuring capes. From there, I could go to the wiki, where there was information on individual capes, groups and events, or to the message boards, which broke down into nearly a hundred sub-boards, for specific cities and capes. I opened the wiki in one tab, then found and opened the message board for Brockton Bay in another.

I had the sense that either Tattletale or Grue were the leader of the group I had run into. Turning my attention to Tattletale, I searched the wiki. The result I got was disappointingly short, starting with a header reading "This article is a stub. Be a hero and help us expand it." There was a one sentence blurb on how she was a alleged villain active in Brockton Bay, with a single blurry picture. The only new information for me was that her costume was lavender. A search of the message boards turned up absolutely nothing. There wasn't even a hint as to what her power was. _'A tattletale is someone who spills information…'_ I thought. _'Maybe she has some way to gather people's personal info?'_

I looked up Grue. There was actually some useful information about him, but nothing too detailed or definitive. The wiki stated he had been active for nearly three years, dealing in petty crimes such as robbing small stores and doing some work as an enforcer for those who wanted a little superpowered muscle along for a job. Recently, he had turned to higher scale crime, including corporate theft and robbing a casino, together with his new team. His power was listed as darkness generation in the sidebar under his picture. The picture seemed crisp enough, but the focus of it, Grue, was just a blurry black silhouette in the center. _'Shadow generator. Like Johnny 13's shadow, except not trying to kill me yet,'_ I thought of.

I searched for Bitch, next. No results. I did another search for her more official title, Hellhound, the name Armsmaster gave me, and got a treasure trove of information. Rachel Lindt had never made any real attempt to hide her identity. She had apparently been homeless through most of her criminal career, just living on the streets and moving on whenever police or a cape came after her. The sightings and encounters with the homeless girl ended sometime around a year ago – I figured that was when she joined forces with Grue, Tattletale and Regent. The picture in the sidebar was taken from surveillance camera footage – an unmasked, dark haired girl who I wouldn't have called pretty. She had a squarish, blunt-featured face with thick eyebrows. She was riding atop one of her monstrous 'dogs' like a jockey rides a horse, down the middle lane of a street. _'She could be unsocial simply because she never had a chance to really interact with people.'_

According to the wiki entry, her powers manifested when she was fourteen, followed almost immediately by her demolishing the foster home she had been living in, injuring her foster mother and two other foster children in the process. This was followed by a two year series of skirmishes and retreats across Maine as various heroes and teams tried to apprehend her, and she either defeated them or successfully evaded capture. I narrowed my eyes, re-reading the last few sentences. _'Some kind of accident, involving her powers,'_ I supposed. _'The authorities blamed her and she became a villain in everyone's eyes. So she became one for herself.'_

She had no powers that would have made her any stronger or faster than the average Jane, but she was apparently able to turn ordinary dogs into the creatures I had seen on the rooftop. Monsters the size of a car, all muscle, bone, fang and claw. A red box near the bottom of the page read, "Rachel Lindt has a public identity, but is known to be particularly hostile, antisocial and violent. If recognized, do **not** approach or provoke. Leave the area and notify authorities as to her last known location." At the very bottom of the page was a list of links that were related to her: two fansites and a news article relating to her early activities. _'Fansites?'_ I thought incredulously.

A search of the message boards turned up too many results, leaving me unable to sift through the crap, the arguments, the speculation and the villain worship to find any genuine morsels of information. If nothing else, she was notorious, but possibly innocent. I sighed and moved on, making a mental note to do more investigation when I had the time.

The last member of the group was Regent. Given what Armsmaster had said about the guy being low profile, I didn't expect to find much. I was surprised to find less than that: nothing. My search on the wiki turned up only a default response, "There are no results matching this query. 32 unique IP addresses have searched the Wiki for 'Regent' in 2011. Would you like to create the page?" The message board didn't turn up anything else. I even did a search for alternate spellings of his name, such as Regence and Recant, in case I had heard it wrong, though with my enhanced hearing, I doubted that. Nothing turned up.

If my mood had been on the sour side as I got to homeroom, the dead ends only made me grow more annoyed. I turned my attention to the in-class assignment, making a working calculator in Visual Basic, but it was too simple to distract me. The work from Thursday and Friday had already given us the tools to do the job, so it was really just busywork. I didn't mind learning stuff, but work for the sake of doing work was annoying. I did the completed the task to the point where Texas Instruments would be jealous of, and returned to surfing the web. All in all, the work barely took fifteen minutes.

I looked up Lung on the wiki, which I had done often enough before, as part of my research and preparation for being a superhero. I'd wanted to be sure I knew who prominent local villains were and what they could do. The search for 'Lung' redirected to a catch-all page on his gang, the ABB, with quite a bit of detailed information. The information on Lung's powers was pretty in line with my own experience, though there was no mention of the super-hearing or him being fireproof. I debated adding it, but decided against it. There were security concerns with my submission being tracked back to Winslow High, and then to me. I figured it would probably be deleted as unsupported speculation, anyways.

The section beneath the description of Lung and his powers covered his subordinates. He was estimated to have forty or fifty thugs working for him across Brockton Bay, largely drawn from the ranks of Asian youth. It was pretty unconventional for a gang to include members of the variety of nationalities that the ABB did, but Lung had made it a mission to conquer and absorb every gang with Asian members and many without. Once he had the manpower he needed, the non-Asian gangs were cannibalized for assets, their members discarded. Even though there were no more major gangs in the east end of town to absorb, he was still recruiting zealously. His method, now, was to go after anyone older than twelve and younger than sixty. It didn't matter if you were a gang member or not. If you were Asian and you lived in Brockton Bay, Lung and his people expected you to either join or to pay tribute one way or another. There had been local news reports on it, newspaper articles, and I could remember seeing signs in the guidance counselor's office detailing where people who were targeted in this way could go for help.

Lung's lieutenants were listed as Oni Lee and Bakuda. I already had some general knowledge about Oni Lee, but I was intrigued to see there were recent updates to his wiki entry. There were specific details on his powers: he could teleport, but when he did so, he didn't disappear. As he teleported, his original self, for lack of a better term, would stay where it was and remain active for five to ten seconds before disintegrating into a cloud of carbon ash. Essentially, he could create another version of himself anywhere nearby, while the old version could stick around long enough to distract or attack you.

' _That can't be good for your health,'_ I thought. If that wasn't scary enough, there was an report of him holding a grenade in his hand as he repeatedly duplicated himself, with his short lived duplicates acting as suicide bombers. Topping it all off, Oni Lee's wiki page had a similar red warning box to the one that Bitch/Hellhound had on hers, minus the bit about his public identity. From what they knew about him, authorities had seen fit to note him a sociopath. The warning covered the same essential elements: exceedingly violent, dangerous to approach, should not be provoked, and so on. I glanced at his picture. His costume consisted of a black bodysuit with a black bandolier and belt for his knives, guns and grenades. The only color on him was an ornate Japanese-style demon mask, crimson with two green stripes down either side, Except for the mask, his costume gave off the distinct impression of a ninja, which just added weight to the notion that this was a guy who could and would slide a knife between your ribs.

Bakuda was a new entry, added to the ABB wiki page just ten days ago. The picture only showed her from the shoulders up, a girl with straight black hair, large opaque goggles over her eyes and a metal mask with a gas mask styled filter covering the lower half of her face. A braided cord of black, yellow and green wires looped over one of her shoulders. I couldn't pinpoint her ethnicity with the mask and goggles, and her age wasn't any easier to figure out. However, seeing as she had joined the ABB, I guessed she was Asian.

The wiki had a lot of the same details Armsmaster had mentioned to me. Bakuda had essentially held a university ransom and she did it with her superhuman ability to design and fabricate high tech bombs. There was a link to a video titled 'Bomb Threat Cornell', but I didn't think it wise to play it in school, especially without headphones. I made a mental note to check it out when I got home.

The next thing that caught my eye was the section heading titled 'Defeats and Captures'. I scrolled down to read it. According to the wiki, Lung had apparently suffered a number of minor defeats at the hands of various teams, ranging from the Guild to the local teams of New Wave, the Wards and the Protectorate, but consistently managed to evade capture until last night. A blurb read, 'Unknown rogue successfully ambushed and defeated the leader of the ABB. Lung was taken to the PHQ for holding until the villain's trial by teleconference. Given Lung's extensive and well documented criminal history, it is expected he will face imprisonment in the Birdcage should he be found guilty at trial.' There was a link as well, to a video called 'Lung Gets Rekt by Rogue'.

I took a deep breath and let it out slowly. I wasn't sure what to think. By all rights, I should have been annoyed that people are already aware of my existence. However, I was also been bubbling with excitement. It had been nearly two years since I received credit for some sort of work I did, and this made me want to shout out loud, "I kicked Lung's ass! Suck it ABB!" But that would probably get me sent to the office.

With a renewed enthusiasm, I switched tabs to the message board and began looking to see what people were saying about it. A post by a fan or minion of Lung threatened violence against Agloolik. There was a request by someone asking for more information on the fight. I was given pause by one post that asked whether Bakuda could or would use a large scale bomb and the threat of potentially thousands or hundreds of thousands dead, to ransom Lung back.

I tried to put that out of my mind. If it happened, I knew I would take it as my own responsibility to beat her down.

It struck me that there was one person I hadn't looked for. Myself. I opened up the advanced search page for the message board and did a search for multiple terms. I included 'Agloolik', 'ghost', 'rogue', and 'Lung'. I narrowed the timeframe of posts to search for posts made within the past 12 hours and hit Search.

My efforts turned up two posts. One referred to an encounter between Eidolon and Lung when they were duking it out, with a video link. Eidolon had beaten Lung, who retreated with the assistance of his goons.

The second post was in the 'Connections' section of the message board, where rescued damsels left their contact information for their dashing heroes, where conventions and fan gatherings were organized and where people posted job offers for capes and the cape-obsessed. Most were cryptic or vague, referring to stuff only the people in question would know.

The message was titled, simply, "Agloolik".

I clicked it and waited impatiently for the outdated system and overloaded school modem to load up the page. What I got was brief.

Subject: Agloolik

Owe you one. Would like to repay the favor. Meet?

Send a message,

Tt.

The post was followed by two pages of people commenting. Three people suggested it was something important, while a half dozen more people decried them as tinfoil hats, 's term for conspiracy theorists.

It was meaningful, though. I couldn't interpret it any other way; Tattletale had found a way to get in contact with me.

[][][][][]

 **[A/N]: JESUS CHRIST THAT TOOK FOREVER! Over 4K words, and 14 pages! Most of my chapters will be between 2K-5K, and that was one of the longer ones, geez! So, sorry for not updating. Life happened, and school has FINALLY ended! This is the arc where the AU should start to take shape. I can't WAIT for the Leviathan battle. I have such great things planned out… ;3**

 **~Slenderbrine**


	8. Daemons 2-2

**Daemons 2.2**

I didn't have any time to contemplate the message I'd received from Tattletale. The bell rang and I hurried up to properly log off, delete my history, and shut down the computer before heading to my next class. As I gathered my stuff, I realized I had been so caught up in researching on the villains I'd met last night and in Tattletale's message that I had forgotten to worry about getting into trouble for skipping class. I felt a kind of resignation as I realized I would have to face the music later in the day, anyways. At least I didn't have to worry about detention with Mr. Lancer, anyways.

Madison was already in her seat as I got to the classroom. She had a pair of girls crouching by either side of her desk, and all three of them broke into giggles as they saw me. I sent them a glare. Bitches.

My seat of choice was the far right, front row, closest to the door. Lunch hour and immediately after school was when the trio tried to give me the hardest time, so I tried to sit as close as possible to the door, for a quick escape. It was strangely reminiscent of my times with Dash. I spotted a puddle of orange juice on the seat, with the empty plastic bottle lying just underneath the chair. Madison was going for a two for one. It was both a 'prank' and a reminder of how they had attempted to have guys douse me with juice and soft drinks last Friday. Irritated, I carefully avoided looking at Madison and took an empty seat a few rows back.

When Mr. Gladly entered the room, he was short and young enough you could almost mistake him for another high school student. It took a few minutes for him to start the class, and he immediately ordered us to break into groups of four to share our homework with one another and to prepare to share it with the rest of the class. The group that had the most to contribute would win the prize he had mentioned on Friday, treats from the vending machine.

It was stuff like this that made Mr. Gladly my least favorite teacher. I got the impression he'd be surprised to hear he was _anyone's_ least favorite teacher, but that was just one more point against him in my book. I don't think he comprehended why people might not like him, or how miserable group work was when you didn't identify with any of the groups or cliques in the school. He just figured people liked doing group work because it let them talk and hang out with their friends in class.

While the class got sorted, I figured I'd avoid standing around like a loser with no group to join and get something else out of the way. I approached the desk at the front of the room.

"Mr. Gladly?"

"Call me Mr. G. Mr. Gladly is my dad," he informed me with a sort of mock sternness.

"Mr. Gladly," I repeated, making a point of ignoring the irritated glance sent my way, "I need a new textbook."

He gave me a curious look, "What happened to your old one?"

"I accidentally spilled grape juice on it," I said. It was sorta the truth. Sorta.

"Replacement textbooks are thirty five dollars. I don't expect it now, but…"

I nodded in understanding. "I'll have it for you by the end of the week," I finished for him.

He handed me a textbook, and I looked over the room before joining the only group with room for more: Sparky and Greg. We had been in a group several times before, as the leftovers when all the friends and cliques had banded together.

Sparky had apparently picked up his nickname when a third grade teacher used it in an ironic sense, and it had stuck, to the point where I doubted anyone but his own mother even knew his real name. He was a drummer, long haired, and was so out of touch with reality that you could stop talking in the middle of a sentence and he wouldn't notice. He just went through life in a daze, presumably until he could do his thing, which was his band. He reminded me of your typical '80s, southern Californian beach dude.

Greg was just the opposite. He was smarter than average, but he had a way of saying every thought that came into his head – his train of thought didn't have any brakes. Or tracks. Or a conductor. It would have been easier to be in a group with just Sparky and essentially do the work by myself than it would be to work with Greg.

I got my share of the homework out of my new backpack. Mr. Gladly had asked us to come up with a list of ways that capes had influenced society. In between the various steps of my getting ready for my first night out in costume, I had taken the time to fix up my art project and had come up with a fairly comprehensive list for Mr. Gladly's homework. I had even used newspaper and magazine clippings to support my points. I felt pretty good about it.

"I didn't get much done," Greg said, "I got distracted by this new game I got and it is really really good, it's called Space Opera, have you played it?"

A full minute later he was still on the same topic, even though I wasn't playing any attention to him or giving him any feedback on what he was saying, "…you have to understand it's a genre, and it's one I've really been getting into it lately, since I started watching this anime called – Oh, hey, Julia!" Greg broke off from his monologue to wave with enough energy and excitement that I felt a little embarrassed to just be sitting next to him. I turned in my seat to see one of Madison's friends coming in, late.

She was going to be in my group wasn't she?

"Can I be in Madison's group?" Julia asked Mr. Gladly.

' _Please say yes, please say yes,'_ I thought desperately.

"That wouldn't be fair. Greg's group only has three people. Help them," Mr. Gladly instructed.

' _God damn it.'_

Julia walked over to where we were sitting and made a face. Just loud enough for us to hear, she muttered a disgusted, "Ew." I felt much the same about her joining us.

It was downhill from there. Madison's group moved so the four of them were sitting right next to our group, which let Julia talk with them while still sitting with us. The presence of all the popular and attractive girls in the class just got Greg more wound up, and he began trying to insert himself into their conversation, only to get shut down or ignored. It was embarrassing to watch, to the point where I tried to actually save him.

"Greg," I said, trying to distract him from the other group, "Here's what I did over the weekend. What do you think?"

I handed him the work I had done. To his credit, he gave it a serious read.

"This is really well done, Danny," he said, when he was done.

"Let me see," Julia said. Before I could stop him, Greg dutifully handed my work over to her. I watched her glance over it, then toss it onto Madison's table. There were a few giggles.

"Give it back," I said, tension building in my shoulders.

"Give what back?" Julia said.

' _Oh, so you're going to play it like that, huh?'_ I snarkily thought.

"Madison," I said, ignoring Julia, "Give it back."

Madison, cute and petite and crush of choice for half the guys in our grade, turned and managed a combined look and tone of such condescension that a grown man would have flinched, "Nobody is talking to you, Danny."

I inwardly smirked, realizing she didn't notice what was written at the top of the page.. I kicked back, and pretended to be annoyed, which wasn't hard with the company present. Greg looked between me and the girls with a kind of panic before settling into a funk, Sparky had his head down on his desk, either asleep or close to it, and I was left planning. I made an attempt at trying to to salvage things, but getting Greg to focus was impossible, as he constantly tried to apologize and made lame attempts to convince the other group to give my work back. The time ran out, and Mr. Gladly picked out people from each group to stand up and go over what they had come up with.

I sighed as Mr. Gladly picked Greg to do our group's presentation, and was forced to watch Greg botch it badly enough that Mr. Gladly asked him to sit down before he was finished. Greg was one of those kids I always figured made teachers groan inwardly when they raised their hands in class. The sort of kid that took twice as long to answer as anyone else, and was often only half-right or so off-tangent that it derailed the discussion. I couldn't imagine what had possessed Mr. Gladly to pick Greg to do our group's presentation.

What made things worse was that I then got to watch Madison rattle off my very impressive sounding list of ways capes had changed the world. She cribbed almost all of my stuff; fashion, economics, Tinkers and the tech boom, the fact that movies, television and magazines had been tweaked to accommodate cape celebrities, and so on. Still, she got it wrong when explaining how law enforcement had changed. My point had been that with qualified capes easing the workload and taking over for most high profile crises, law enforcement of all stripes were more free to train and expand their skill sets, making for smarter, more versatile cops. Madison just made it sound like they got a lot of vacation days.

"Excuse me, Mr. Gladly," I said aloud. Half the class (the half that was paying attention) turned towards me, as well as the teacher, Julia, and Madison. I continued, pointing at the paper in Madison's hand, "Most of the stuff Madison said wasn't her own; she stole that page in her hand from me."

Mr. Gladly looked concerned as he looked towards Madison, who adopted the look of a kicked puppy. "He's lying, Mr. G!" she cried out. I inwardly cringed at the fakeness of the fakery. "He's just jealous that his group didn't do so well!"

"Yeah!" Julia unnecessarily chimed in.

Mr. Gladly turned towards me again. One hand on his hip, he pointed his finger at me and began scolding, "Daniel, it is rude to accuse others of plagiarism and stealing. Do you have anything to say?"

My grin sprouted in a smirk, reaching ear to ear, as I kicked my feet up up the desk. "Sure, Mr. G," I said using the nickname he loved. "If that really _is_ Madison's work, can she _please_ explain to the class why the words 'Researched and typed by Daniel Fenton' are type and printed, in ink, on the top of the paper she's holding?" My voice held a tad of pleading, and a dash of sarcasm.

Mr. Gladly blinked and turned around, walking to the group up at the front of the classroom. Madison looked worried, and tried to hide the paper, but Mr. Gladly snatched the paper out of Madison's hands. While Mr. Gladly read the paper, Madison and Julia sent angry looks my way. I continued to smirk, while they continued to fume.

"Madison," Mr. Gladly began, "I am very disappointed with you. See me for detention after school today!"

Madison hung her head. "Yes, Mr. G," she said. As her group went to sit down, she moved to kick me. I scooted to the side, and Madison tripped, off balance. The class laughed as she picked herself off the floor, and moved to her seat. The felt _goooood_.

Mr. Gladly named another group as the winners, by virtue of the sheer number of things they had come up with, though he made a point of saying the quality of my group's work was nearly good enough to count. From there, he moved on to his lecture.

I was happy and I could focused on the lecture, paying attention to the effects of capes on the UN, for once. Being as exhausted from the previous night's activity as I was, however, it was all I could do to keep from dozing off. Still, spending the class half-asleep made it go by faster. I was startled when the bell rang.

As everyone gathered their things and began to file out, Mr. Gladly approached me and quietly said, "I'd like you to stick around for a few minutes, Danny."

I just nodded and put my books away, then waited for the teacher to finish negotiating where to meet the prize winners from the class contest so he could pay for their prizes.

When it was just me and Mr. Gladly in the classroom, he cleared his throat and then told me, "I'm not stupid, you know."

"Okay," I replied, not sure how to respond.

"I have something of an idea of what goes on in my classroom. I don't know exactly who, but I know some people are giving you a pretty hard time."

"Sure," I said.

"I saw the mess left on your usual seat today. I remember a few weeks back when glue was smeared on your desk and chair. There was also the incident that happened at the start of the year. All of your teachers had a meeting about that."

I held his gaze with a steady one of my own.

"And I'm guessing there's more that I don't know about?"

"Yeah," I said. It was hard to explain how I felt about this conversation. I was gratified, I think, that someone had brought it up, but annoyed that that someone was Mr. Gladly. I felt kind of embarrassed too, like I had walked into a door and someone was trying too hard to make sure I was okay, but I hid it well enough.

"I asked you after the glue incident. I'm asking you again. Would you be willing to go to the office with me, to talk with the principal and vice principal?"

After a few moments of consideration, I looked up and asked him, "What would happen?"

"We'd have a discussion about what's been going on. You would name the person or people you believe responsible, and each of them would be called in to talk to the principal, in turn."

"And they'd get expelled?" I asked, though I already knew the answer.

Mr. Gladly shook his head, "If there was enough proof, they would be suspended for several days, unless they've done something very serious. Further offenses could lead to longer suspensions or expulsion."

I gave a rueful chuckle, feeling the frustration welling up, "Great. So they might miss a few days of school, and only if I can prove they were behind it all… and whether they get suspended or not, they feel a hundred percent justified in whatever else they do to the rat for revenge."

"If you want things to get better, Danny, you have to start somewhere."

"That isn't a starting point. It's shooting myself in the foot," I said, pulling my bag over my shoulder. "If you really know high school kids like you say you do, then you should know exactly what I'm talking about."

When he didn't immediately respond, I left the classroom.

Emma, Madison, Sophia, a half dozen other girls, and a few straggling boys were standing in the hall, waiting for me.

[][][][][]

 **[A/N]: I always hated when Taylor was in school, but I need to do this to stick close to the main universe for now…**

 **~Slenderbrine**


	9. Daemons 2-3

**Daemons 2.3**

"He's an idiot."

"Totally, he's just slimy trash."

"Like a man whore."

"No, he's Daniel Fen-turd," Emma Baxter Barnes chimed in. Now _there_ was an insult I hadn't heard in awhile. 

Despite the way the conversation sounded, they were talking to me. They were just pretending to talk to one another. It was both calculating in how they were managing plausible deniability while at the same time they were acting completely childish by pretending I wasn't there. A blend of immaturity mixed with craftiness in a way only high schoolers could manage. It reminded me of my Phantom days, and my witty banter.

The moment I had left the classroom, Emma, Madison and Sophia had crowded me into a corner, with a following group of wannabe popular kids backing them up. I was unable to squeeze past them without getting pushed or elbowed back, so I couldn't do much more than lean against the window, listening while eight of the girls were rattling off an endless series of taunts and jibes. I could've pushed through past them, but then they would've run to a teacher about how I was 'bullying' them. Before one girl was even finished, another started up. All the while, Emma stayed back and stayed quiet, the slightest of smiles on her face, only occasionally joining with an old insult from Dash. I couldn't meet the eyes of any of the other kids without them barking a fresh torrent of insults directly to my face, so I just glared at Emma and Sophia. Emma just smirked, while Sophia glared back.

While this particular tactic was new to me, I'd been putting up with stuff like this for a year and a half, now. At a certain point, I'd come to the conclusion that it was easier to sit back and take it, when it came to most things. They wanted me to fight back, because everything was stacked in their favor. If I stood up for myself and they still 'won', then it only served to feed their egos (I figured they would explode, one day). If I came out ahead in some way, then they got more persistent and mean for the next time. I just leaned against the wall next to the window and waited for them to get bored with their game or get hungry enough to leave and go have their lunches.

"What does he use to wash her face? A Brillo pad?"

"He should! He'd look better!"

"He never tries to talk to anybody. Maybe he knows he sounds like a fucking idiot and keeps his mouth shut."

"No, he's not that smart."

No more than three feet behind Emma, I could see Mr. Gladly leaving his classroom. The tirade didn't stop as I watched him tuck a stack of folders under one arm, find his keys and lock the door.

"If I were him, I'd kill myself," one of the girls announced.

Mr. Gladly turned to look me in the eyes.

"So glad we don't have gym with him. Can you imagine seeing him in the locker room? Kill me know."

I don't know what expression I had on my face, but I know I didn't look happy. No less than five minutes ago, Mr. Gladly had been trying to convince me to go with him to the office and tell the principal about the bullying.

I stared him down, my eyes locking onto his. _'You want to help me with my bullying problem?'_ I thought, watching the teacher shift uncomfortably under my stare. _'Prove it.'_

I watched him as he gave me a sad look, shifted the file folders to his free hand, and then walked away.

I was stunned. I just couldn't wrap my head around how he could just ignore this. When he had been trying to help me, had he just been covering his own ass, doing what was required of him in the face of a situation he couldn't ignore? Had he just given up on me? After trying to help, in his own completely ineffective way, after I turned his offer for help down twice, he just decided I just wasn't worth the effort? What an ass.

"You're going to wish you didn't call me out in class, now."

I clenched my fist, then forced myself to relax it. If they were all guys, this scenario would be totally different. I was in the best shape of my life. I could have swung a few punches from the very start, caused a bloody nose or two. Or, counting heads, caused 11 bloody noses. I knew I could wipe the floor with all of them, but that wouldn't be fair for them. If there was enough damage done, the school would have to take notice, and they wouldn't be able to ignore the circumstances of a one-against-nine fight. Violence gets attention.

But things didn't work that way here. Girls played dirty. If I decked Emma, she would run to the office with some fabricated story, her friends backing up her version of events. For most, ratting to the faculty was social suicide, but Emma was more or less top dog. If she went to the principal, people would only take things more seriously. By the time I got back to school, they would have spread the story through the grapevine in a way that made me look like a total psycho. Things would get worse. Emma would be seen as the victim and girls who had previously ignored the bullying would join in on Emma's behalf.

Maybe then the kids would leave the psycho kid alone. _'Nah,'_ I added, mentally. _'They aren't_ that _smart.'_

"And she smells," one guy said, lamely. Was that all they could come up with at this point?

"Like expired grape and orange juice," Madison cut in with a little laugh. Again, bringing up the juice? I suspected that one had been her idea.

I sighed, getting too annoyed at this.

"Outta the way," I said, shoving on girl aside. She let out an exaggerated shriek as she fell to the ground. One guy hurried to her side ‒ I guessed that was her boyfriend or something ‒ Emma smirked as she falsely exclaimed, "Danny! Why would you push an innocent girl like that?"

The other girls and guys smirked at me, even the one on the ground. I sighed. And walked away, hoping to get lunch before the principal called me down to the office.

No such luck. I was called while I was in the lunch line.

"Daniel Fenton, please report to Principal Blackwell's office, Daniel Fenton," the PA system announced to the cafeteria. I sighed, ignoring the stares of curious students, and trudged my way to the office.

The secretary greeted me as I made my way in. She nodded to the door. "They're expecting you," she said.

"I know," I exhaled.

I opened the door, to be greeted to a sight of Emma, the 'victim', and Principal Blackwell. She was a narrow woman, dirty blond, with that severe bowl-cut haircut I could never understand the appeal of. She was dressed like she was attending a funeral – black blouse, sweater and skirt, black shoes. Blackwell nodded at me, and then to the open seat on the left, facing her desk. The middle seat was occupied by Emma, and to the right of her was the defendant in this escapade.

"Hello, Mr. Fenton," Blackwell greeted. Well, 'greeted' was a strong word. She honestly sounded like she was greeting the shit on the bottom of her shoe. "Ms. Emma Barnes here was telling me about how you attacked Ms. Hannah Farrow out of nowhere. Something about a bully campaign?" She looked at me.

I plopped down on the hard, wooden chair unceremoniously. I shrugged. "They're lying," I offered. She narrowed her eyes, "Well, it's two against one here, so…" she trailed off.

I suddenly laughed out loud, startling the principal and the other girls. "Oh, I see how it is," I said, pretending to have an epiphany. "So, I come up to you telling you about a bully campaign against me that has been going on for over a year and a half and you dismiss me, despite having written evidence and emails to prove it."

Then I pointed to the two next to me. Hannah pretended to shrink back, while Emma 'stood up' to me. Pathetic. "But when _two_ people come up to you, with just words and a little bump, you're all up for punishing 'bullies'."

"That right?" I asked, sarcastically. She didn't acknowledge me, so I sighed. Plan B, then.

"Alright then," I sighed. "Mrs. Blackwell, do you see your desk?"

She looked down at her desk. Hesitantly she asked, "Yes?"

"See how clean, and intact it is?" I asked, like a commercial advertiser. Principal Blackwell cocked her head in confusion, while Emma stared at me, trying to figure me out as best as she could. "Mr. Fenton, I fail to see—"

Out of nowhere, I stand up from my seat, startling Emma backwards, who was leaning into me. With a cry of effort, I punch Mrs. Blackwell's desk. Her desk, which I did not know at the time, was mahogany, which is incredibly tough.

And, using a small fraction of my power, I punched a hole cleanly through Blackwell's desk. The three females stared at the hole my fist was currently occupying. A few splinters lied on her desk, but nothing actually cut my skin. Slowly, I removed my hand from the desk, hoping it was only my imagination that my fist was _smoking_.

"Do you see the new hole in your desk?" I casually asked, displaying the void in question.

The poor woman could only nod.

I gestured towards Hannah Farrow, who flinched for real this time. Emma also backed up. "Do you see how Ms. Farrow here does _not_ have a hole in her body? And how no bones are broken?"

Again, all I received were faint nods.

"Therefore, I did not attack this girl, correct?"

Nods again. Did I play this out _too_ well?

"I'm glad we could reach an agreement," I said sincerely, standing up from my seat. "Oh" I added, halfway out the door, "and I think it would benefit the whole student body if I were to take the rest of the day off."

The principal nodded, a final time. Emma was staring at the hole, in shock, and Hannah was staring at me, probably sorry she ever joined the bandwagon against me.

"Have a good day, Principal Blackwell," I said, taking my leave. The secretary looked up at me, as I left her office. "What was that noise?" she asked, curious.

I waved her off. "Just a little scuffle. It's all sorted out," I affirmed her.

"Alright," she said, taking my word for it.

It wasn't until I was halfway between the front doors of Winslow and the edge of the property before I questioned myself: 'Now what am I going to do for the rest of the day?'

[][][][][]

 **[A/N]: Sorry for the short chapter, but hey! Already, more canon divergences! More to come! :D**

 **~Slenderbrine**


	10. Daemons 2-4

**Daemons 2.4**

If you looked at Brockton Bay as a patchwork of first class and filth, upper class and lower class with no middle ground, then downtown was one of the nice areas. The streets and sidewalks were wide, and that meant that even with skyscrapers in every other lot, there was a great deal of blue overhead.

Following my retreat from school grounds, I hadn't been sure what to do. My sister worked an unreliable schedule, being an intern therapist, so I couldn't spend the rest of the afternoon at home unless I wanted to risk having to explain what I was doing home on a school day. She would've understood why I was home, but probably not how I earned my way out. I didn't want to hang around the general area of my school, so that had left me the options of the half-hour walk to downtown or a trip to the Boardwalk. Between my morning runs and the previous night's escapades, I had seen enough of the Boardwalk, so I'd decided to head downtown. I headed into an alleyway quickly, and transformed into Agloolik. I turned invisible, and began my flight to downtown.

I didn't want to dwell on the subject of school or Hannah Farrow, so I turned my focus to the recent message from Tattletale. She wanted to meet, presumably to repay the favor she felt she owed me. I considered the possibility that it was a trap, but I couldn't imagine any angle where it would be. She just didn't have any reason to go after me. The worst case scenario was that it wasn't Tattletale, but that wasn't the impression I'd gathered from her. What she said in the message seemed to flow with what I had seen of her last night. I would still be careful, nonetheless.

It was perplexing. These guys were, in large part, virtual unknowns. From what I knew of Grue & Bitch, they were both marginally successful B-list villains who had been barely scraping by. Tattletale & Regent were practically invisible in the hero world. Now both were all on a team that was pulling high profile heists and confounding even the likes of Armsmaster. The four of them seemed totally different in methodology and style, and if I was remembering right, both Grue & Bitch had lived in different cities prior to teaming up and setting roots in Brockton Bay, and Tattletale & Regent could've come from anywhere. That raised the question: who or what had drawn these four very different individuals together?

It was possible that Tattletale or Regent were the uniting factors, but I couldn't really imagine it, having seen what I did of their group dynamic. Grue had poked fun at Regent rather than treat him like a leader. While I couldn't quite voice it, the more I imagined Tattletale uniting that group of unconnected people with powers, the harder I found it to picture. In fact, when I thought about it, hadn't Grue said they had fought for a considerable amount of time over how to deal with Lung? It didn't really sound like they had any leadership worth speaking about. The most likely scenario was that Grue was the 'leader', since he had done the most talking to me.

It wasn't hard to sympathize with Armsmaster. The whole scenario there was just bizarre, and it was made worse by the fact that there were practically no details as far as Tattletale or Regent went. Information, as it seemed, was a major factor when dealing with capes.

The streets were busy with people on their lunch break. Businessmen and businesswomen were heading to fancy restaurants and fast food places. My stomach growled as I flew over a line of people waiting their turn at a street vendor. I checked my pockets and winced at the realization that I didn't have enough for even a hot dog. I lowered myself, invisibly, and stole a pre-prepared hotdog. If I was posing as a villain, I could do a few criminal misdemeanors, right?

I chewed on my delicious, ketchup-y hotdog as I thought back to the circle of villains and Tattletale's message, the amusing thought crossed my mind that I could ask them to repay the favor by buying me lunch. It wasn't a serious thought, but the ridiculousness of the mental image – me eating a burger with a group of supervillains – put a dumb smirk on my face. I was pretty sure I would've looked like an idiot if anyone could've saw me.

What I had decided to do, and what I talked with Jazz about, was that I would become a supervillain to see what was going on with the Undersiders. It wasn't much of a dream to become a villain, as much as it was a goal to help people that drove me to do this. I lazily floated in the air, above the hubbub of commotion, savoring the last few bites of my hotdog. But if I was going to take these guys up on their offer, I was going to need a computer. Preferably a traceable one, so if they did trace it, they didn't think I was a Tinker. I briefly pondered the idea that Tucker was a Tinker, seeing the tech that he had given to me as a going away present. But I shook those thoughts out of my head, dismissing them; Tinker-tech was impossible to replicate, while Tucker-tech was simply complex as all hell.

I turned around mid-flight and headed in the direction of the public library. It was only a few blocks away.

The library was busy, which made sense, given the number of offices and businesses around, the number of people wanting some quiet during their lunch hour, and people doing research or casual browsing they couldn't do at their workplaces. I would have included Brockton Bay's biggest and fanciest high school, the nearby Arcadia High, in that generalization, but I doubted many students were spending their lunch breaks at the library. And if they did, it was at their own fancy shmancy library.

The Central Library looked almost more like a museum or art gallery than anything else, with tall ceilings, pillars and massive pieces of artwork hung to frame the hallways between the major sections of the building. I headed up to the second floor, where there were about twenty computers and a line of people waiting their turn to use them. I anticipated a fifteen or twenty minute wait, but as the clock approached one o'clock, people headed back to work and the line rapidly thinned out. A free computer came up within a few minutes of my joining the line. I let the person behind me go on ahead, waiting a bit longer so I could get a station with a little more privacy.

By the time I sat down, I had a pretty good idea of what I wanted to write. I found the message with the search function and clicked on the username 'Tt'. A drop down menu appeared, and I chose 'send private message'. It gave me the option of making an account, signing in with an already existing account, or sending the message as an anonymous guest. I chose the last option, then typed:

 **Subject: Re:Agloolik**

Yo. I'll meet, but I want some proof that you're Tt. Gimme something and I'll meet up.

I didn't send it right away, taking a moment to consider. Getting decent proof would prevent any potential problems like the message turning out to be a trap laid by, say, Bakuda. Leaving the burden of proof on Tattletale and leaving it up to her to decide if she wanted verification I was indeed Agloolik meant I didn't have to worry about coming up with exactly how one might prove their identity. If she had information gathering powers like I thought she did, I shouldn't have to wait long. Confident, I sent the message.

The reply came only two or three minutes later. It was fast enough that I couldn't imagine Tattletale taking the time to trace the message. Was that her power, or just intuition?

I closed the tabs I had opened in the meantime and checked to see what she had written. It was a private message, from her to me, and it confirmed her identity

 **Subject: re:Bug**

Proof? Last night you beat up that big guy, hurt his balls, and talked to G a lot. Good enough?

G R and me will meet you at the same spot we crossed paths last night, k? Don't have to get gussied up if you catch my drift. Rest of us will be in casual wear.

If we meet at 2 will that give you enough time to get there from library with everything you need? let me know

Ta ta

A grin formed. _'Interesting,'_ I thought. She knew where I was, and she was letting me know. Why? More to the point, how? I knew my way around computers, my mom and dad had made sure I had one since before I could read and write, I could tell if I was being hacked or not. She had managed to gain that information by using her power, probably

I would have interpreted the casual mention of my location as a veiled threat if it didn't run contrary to everything else in her messages to me. Besides – Tattletale was talking about meeting me in casual clothes. I took that to mean they wouldn't be in costume. I couldn't understand why, but at the same time, it was hard to imagine her threatening me with one breath just a sentence after she'd offered to meet me in a way that made her totally vulnerable.

As I pondered the message, the screensaver came up. The words 'BROCKTON BAY CENTRAL LIBRARY' scrolled across the screen in varying colors. This was my only chance, so I had to go…

"Excuse me?"

Startled, I looked up. A middle aged woman in a red jacket stood just behind me. As I met her eyes she asked, "Are you done?" She gestured at the computer, where the screensaver was still scrolling.

Heady with the relief that she hadn't been, irrationally enough, Tattletale, I smiled and told her, "Give me thirty seconds."

 **Subject: Re:Agloolik**

See you at two.

[][][][][]

I showed up in costume. I didn't care if they thought it was rude or paranoid, I would rather be capable of surviving having a knife pulled on me than play nice. Besides, if it wasn't a trap, which it probably wasn't, it was just a quick lightshow to turn human again.

I had changed and flown to the alleyway shortly after leaving the library. What could've been a long fifteen to twenty minute trek was a short five minute flight. Once arriving at the alleyway, I looked around. Everything was still the same as last night, give a cigar here and there.

I checked to make sure no one was coming before splitting myself into five. There was me, the original, and four clones. When I split myself into clones, my mind started working in overdrive and splitting/dulling sensations. Most of the sensations my clones received were stored in their own brains, while certain ones they wanted me to see were 'sent' to me. I received the senses, those overlaying my own like a video recording. For the purpose of scouting, i created four clones. I named my clones based on Greek letter, and when they are formed. Today, there was Alpha, the first clone; Beta, the second; Gamma; the third; and Delta, the last clone. I sent them out invisibly in the respective directions of north, east, west, and south. When I split my clones, I could transfer energy between us. As of now, the most my clones could do were fly and turn invisible, which was all I needed them to do.

It was Gamma who informed me of three individuals, two guys and a girl, who were arriving from the west. None of the three were wearing masks, which I deemed reason to believe Tattletale had been telling the truth. They weren't in costume. There was no guarantee that the three were really Tattletale, Grue and Regent, but I felt confident let my invisibility drop, and absorb my invisible clones, as they stepped into the alleyway.

It was them, no doubt. I recognized them even without their costumes. Two guys and a girl. The girl had dirty blonde hair tied back into a loose braid, a smattering of freckles over the bridge of her nose and the same vulpine grin I recognized from the night prior. She wore a black long sleeved t-shirt with a graffiti-style design on it and a knee length denim skirt. I was surprised by the bottle-glass green of her eyes.

The smaller and younger of the two guys – about my age – was undoubtedly Regent. I recognized the mop of black curls. He was a fairly good looking guy, but not in a way that would make me say he was handsome. He was pretty, with a triangular face, light blue eyes and full lips pulled into a bit of a scowl. I pegged him as having French or Italian heritage. I could see where he would have girls all over him, I didn't swing that way, myself. I was fairly heterosexual, if I said so myself. And I did. He was wearing a white jacket with a hood, jeans and sneakers, and was perched on the raised lip at the edge of the roof, a bottle of cola in hand.

Grue was startling in appearance, by contrast. Taller than me by at least a foot, Grue had dark chocolate skin, shoulder length cornrows and that masculine lantern jaw you typically associated with guy superheroes. He wore jeans, boots and a plain green t-shirt, which struck me as a bit cold for the spring. I did note that he had considerable muscle definition in his arms. This was a guy who worked out.

"And he's come," Tattletale crowed, "Pay up."

Regent's scowl deepened for a second, and he fished in his pocket for a wad of bills, which he forked over to Tattletale.

"You guys bet on whether I would show up?" I ventured.

"We bet on whether you would come in costume," Tattletale told me. Then, more to Regent than to me, she said, "and I won."

"Again," Regent muttered.

"It's your own fault for taking the bet in the first place," Grue said, "Even if it wasn't Tattle, it was a sucker bet. Showing up in costume makes too much sense. It's what I would do." He had a nice voice. It was an adult voice, even if his appearance gave me the sense of a guy in his late teens.

He extended his hand to me, "Hey, I'm Brian."

I shook his hand, he wasn't shy about shaking my hand firmly. I said, "Agloolik, I guess. At least, until I come up with something better, or until I decide this isn't an elaborate trick."

He shrugged, "Cool." There wasn't the slightest trace of offense at my suspicion. I almost felt bad.

"Lisa," Tattletale introduced herself. She didn't offer me her hand to shake, but I think it would have felt out of place if she had. It wasn't that she seemed unfriendly, but she didn't have the same aura of geniality about her that Grue did.

"I'm Alec," Regent informed me, with a quiet voice, then he added, "And Bitch is Rachel."

"Rachel is sitting this one out," Grue said, "She didn't agree with the aim of our meeting, here."

"Which raises the question," I cut in, "What is the aim of this meeting? I'm a little weirded out with you guys revealing your secret identities like this, or at least, pretending to."

"Sorry," Brian apologized, "That was my idea. I thought we would make a token show of trust."

My eyes narrowed, flicking from Lisa to Alec to Brian. I couldn't draw any conclusions from their expressions.

"Why, exactly, do you need my trust?" I asked.

Brian opened his mouth, then closed it. He looked to Lisa, who bent down and picked up a plastic lunchbox. She held it out to me.

"I said we owed you. All yours, no strings attached."

Without taking the box, I tilted my head to get a better look at the front. "Alexandria. She was my favorite member of the Protectorate when I was a kid. Is the lunch box collectable?" I asked, teasing edging my voice.

"Open it," Lisa prompted me, with a roll of her eyes.

I took it. From the weight and the motion of the contents inside it, I immediately had a pretty good idea of what it was. I undid the clasps and opened the box.

"Money," I breathed, caught off guard by suddenly having so much in my hands. Eight stacks of bills, tied with paper bands. Each of the paper bands had a number written on it in permanent marker. Two fifty each…

Lisa answered before I had the number totaled up in my head, "Two grand."

I closed the box and did the clasps. "That's a lot of fucking money," I stated.

"You have two choices," Lisa explained, "You can take that as a gift. A thank you for, intentionally or not, saving our ass from Lung last night. And maybe a bit of incentive to count us among your friends when you're out in costume and doing dastardly deeds."

Her grin widened, as if she'd said something she found amusing. Maybe it was the irony of a villain talking about 'dastardly deeds', or how corny the phrase was. She elaborated, "Between territory disputes, differences in ideology, general power struggles and egos, there's a rare few people in the local villain community who won't attack us on sight."

"And the second option?" I asked.

"You can take this as your first installment in the monthly allowance you're entitled to as a member of the Undersiders," Brian spoke up, "As one of us."

I shifted my gaze between the three of them, inwardly smirking. Lisa still had a bit of a smile, but I was getting the impression that was her default expression. Alec looked a little bored, if anything. Brian looked dead serious. Cool.

"Two thousand a month," I said.

"No," Brian cut in, "That's just what the boss pays us, to stick together and to stay active. We make, uh, considerably more than that."

Lisa smirked, and Alec chuckled as he swished the contents of his coke bottle. I made mental note at the mention of this 'boss'.

Not wanting to get sidetracked, I quickly thought through the earlier part of our conversation in the context of the job offer.

I asked, "So Bitch didn't come because she was against the, er, recruitment?"

"Yeah," Alec said, "We voted on it, and she said no."

"On the plus side, the rest of us voted yes," Brian hurried to add, giving Alec a dirty look, "She'll come around. She always votes against adding new members to the group, because she doesn't want to divide the money five ways."

"So you've done this recruiting thing before," I concluded.

"Uh, yeah," Brian looked a touch embarrassed, he rubbed the back of his neck, "It didn't go well. We tried with Spitfire, and she got scared off before we even got to the job offer. Our fault, for bringing Rachel along that time."

"And then she got recruited by someone else," Alec added.

"Yeah," Brian shrugged, "She got snagged by Faultline before we got a second chance. We've made an offer to Circus, too, and she told us in no uncertain terms that she worked alone."

"Taught me a few new curse words while she did it, too," Alec said.

"She was pretty vocal about how she flies solo," Brian admitted.

"So you're going the extra mile, with no costumes as a show of trust and a cash bonus up front, to get me to join," I said, as the pieces came together.

"That's the gist of it," Brian agreed, "Long and short of it is, especially with Lung taken out of action and the ABB diminished by his being gone, there's bound to be some pushing and shoving over territory and status among the various gangs and teams. Us, Faultline's Crew, the remaining ABB, Empire Eighty-Eight, the solo villains, and any out of town teams or gangs that figure that they can worm in and grab a piece of the Bay. If it comes down to it, we want firepower. We haven't screwed up a job yet, but the way us three figure it, it's only a matter of time before we end up stuck in a fight we can't win, with Bitch as the only one of us who can really dish out the hurt."

"And you want me to join you," I stated.

"You fucked up Lung," Lisa shrugged as she spoke, "Good enough for me."

"I suppose," I relented, "but I'm just an Alexandria package, with a few extra bits and pieces."

"Honey," Lisa said, "Entire teams of capes have gone up against Lung and got their asses handed to them. That you managed as well as you did is fantastic. The fact that the asshole is lying in a hospital bed because of you is the icing on the cake."

I didn't hear about that, actually. "What do you mean, 'lying on a hospitable bed'?"

"You froze him solid."

"Yeah?" I questioned, more then said.

"Do you know what happens when a penis gets frosbite?"

I blanched, feeling a bit sick.

Tattletale grinned, "I can't believe you didn't know."

"But he regenerates!" I protested, dropping my hands, "Can't he regrow it?"

"Let's just say that even with the ability to heal several times faster than your average person, Lung is going to be sitting down to use the toilet."

"Okay, that's enough," Brian stopped Lisa before she could go on, "Lung is going to recover, right?"

With the look Brian was giving Lisa, I thought she might lie, regardless of the truth. She shrugged and told me, "He's already recuperating. lowly, but he's on the mend, and he should be in good working order in six months to a year."

"You'd better hope he doesn't escape," Alec said, his voice still quiet but bemused, "Because if someone made my man bits fall off, I'd be out for blood."

Brian pinched the bridge of his nose, "Thank you for that, Alec. The way you two are going, our potential recruit is going to run off to have a panic attack before the idea of becoming an Undersider even crosses her mind."

"How do you know this?" I asked, within a heartbeat of the thought crossing my mind. When Brian turned my way with an expression like he thought he had said something to offend me, I clarified, "Tattletale, or Lisa, or whatever I'm supposed to call you. How do you know this stuff about Lung… or about the fact that I was at the Library, or that the cape was on his way, last night?"

"Library?" Brian interjected, giving Lisa another dark look.

Lisa ignored Brian's question and winked at me, "Girl's gotta have her secrets."

"Lisa's half the reason we haven't failed a job yet," Alec said.

"And our boss is a large part of the rest," Lisa finished for him.

"So you say," Brian grumbled, "But let's not go there."

Lisa smiled at me, "If you want the full scoop, I'm afraid the details on what we do only come with team membership. What I can tell you is that we're a good group. Our track record is top notch, and we're in it for fun and profit. No grand agenda. No real responsibility."

I pursed my lips. While I had picked up some info, I felt like I had a lot more questions. Who was this boss they mentioned? Was he or she setting up other teams of highly successful villains, in Brockton Bay or elsewhere? What made these guys as effective as they were, and was it something I could steal or copy for myself?

It wasn't like I was signing the deal in blood or anything. I stood to gain so much. I transformed back to my human form. Rings of light traversing my body. Lisa watched with a bit of awe, while Brian and Alec jumped a bit in surprise. I let myself grin a vulpine grin, not unlike how I saw Tattletale grin last.

"Okay then," I said. "Hi. My name is Danny Fenton.

"Count me in."

[][][][][]

 **[A/N]: And the bank job grows closer!**

~Slenderbrine


	11. Daemons 2-5

**Daemons 2.5**

As I agreed to join the Undersiders, there was some whooping and cheering. I smiled, allowing myself to feel some cheer, as well.

"Where do we go from here?" Lisa asked Brian.

"Not sure," Brian said, "It's not like we've done this before. I suppose we should let Rachel know, but she said she might work today."

"If the new girl is okay with it, let's stop by our place," Lisa suggested, "See if Rache is there, celebrate the new recruit and get her filled in."

"Sure," I said.

"It's just a few blocks away," Brian said. "Let's go."

We walked deeper into the Docks as a group. While I had lived on the periphery of the area since me and my sister had moved here, and while most people would say the neighborhood I lived in was part of the 'Docks', I had never really been in the areas that gave this part of the city such a bad reputation. At least, I hadn't if I discounted last night, and it had been dark then.

It wasn't an area that had been kept up, and kind of gave off an impression of a ghost town, and I knew what _those_ looked like (heh. Ghost puns). Grass and weeds grew between slats in the sidewalk, the road had potholes you could fit a cat in, and the buildings were all faded, consisting of peeling paint, cracked mortar and rusty metal. The desaturated colors of the buildings were contrasted by splashes of vividly colored graffiti. As we passed what had once been a main road for the trucks traveling between the warehouses and the docks, I saw a row of power lines without wires stretching between them. At one point weeds had crawled most of the way up the poles, only to wither and die at some point. Now each of the poles had a mess of dead brown plants hanging off of them. Pretty.

There were people, too, though not too many were out and about. There were those you expected, like a homeless bag lady with a grocery cart and a shirtless old man with a beard nearly to his navel, collecting bottles and cans from a dumpster. There were others that surprised me. I saw a woman that looked surprisingly normal, in clothes that weren't shabby enough to draw attention, herding four near-identical infant children into a factory building with a faded sign. I wondered if they were living there or if the mom was working there and just couldn't do anything with her kids but bring them with her. We passed a twenty-something artist and his girlfriend, sitting on the sidewalk with paintings propped up around them. The girl waved at Lisa as we walked by, and Lisa waved back.

Our destination was a red brick factory with a massive sliding metal door locked shut by a coil of chain. Both the chain and door had rusted so much that I expected that neither offered any use. The size of the door and the broadness of the driveway made me think that large trucks or small boats would have been backed up through the entryway back in the factory's heyday. I could probably fit the Specter Speeder through the doors. The building itself was large, stretching nearly half the block, two or three stories tall. The background of the sign at the top of the building had faded from red to a pale orange-pink, but I could make out the bold white letters that read 'Redmond Welding'.

For some reason, it strangely reminded me of my house in my old, condemned town. The thought put a little damper on my good mood.

Brian let us in through a small door on the side of the building, rather than the big rusted one. The interior was dark, lit only by rows of dusty windows near the ceiling. I could make out what had been massive machines and treadmills prior to being stripped to their bare bones. Sheets covered most of the empty and rusted husks.

"Come on," Brian urged me. I looked back and saw that he was halfway up a spiral staircase in the corner. I headed up after him.

After seeing the desolation of the first floor, seeing the second floor was a bright contrast. It was a loft, and the contrast was startling. The exterior walls were red brick, and there was no ceiling beyond a roof and a skeleton of metal girders overhead to support it. In terms of general area, the loft seemed to have three sections, though it was hard to define because it was such an open layout.

The staircase opened up into what I would have termed the living room, though the one room alone had nearly as much floor space as the ground floor of my Brockton Bay house did, and was about the size of the original lab back home. The space was divided by two couches, which were set at right angles from one another, both facing a coffee table and one of the largest television sets I had ever seen. Below the television set were a half dozen video game consoles, a DVD player and one or two machines I didn't recognize. I supposed they might have a TiVo, though I'd never seen one. Speakers larger than the TVs my dad and I had at home sat on either side of the whole setup. Behind the couches were tables, some open space with rugs and shelves set against the walls. The shelves were only half filled with books and magazines, while the rest of the shelf space was filled with odds and ends ranging from a discarded shoe to candles.

The second section was a collection of rooms. It was hard to label them as such, though, because they were more like cubicles, three against each wall with a hallway between them. They were a fair size, and there were six doors, but the walls of each room were only eight or so feet tall, not reaching all the way up to the roof. Three of the doors had artwork spray painted on them. The first door had a crown done in a dramatic graffiti style. The second door had the white silhouette of a man and a woman against a blue background, mimicking the 'mens' and 'womens' washroom signs that were so common. The third had a girl's face with puckered lips. I wondered what the story was, there.

"Nice crown," I said, pointing at the door with the crown on it.

"Thanks," Alec replied. I guess that meant it was his work.

I took another second to look around. The far end of the loft, the last of the three sections, had a large table and some cabinets. Though I couldn't take a better look without crossing the whole loft, I gathered that their kitchen was in the far end of the loft. I was still feeling a bit hungry, even after the hotdog. I wonder if they had any food…

Throughout, there was mess. I felt almost rude for paying attention to it, but there were pizza boxes piled on one of the tables, two dirty plates on the coffee table in front of the couch, and some clothes draped over the back of one of the couches. I saw soda cans – or maybe beer cans – stacked in a pyramid on the table in the far room. It wasn't so messy that I thought it was offensive, though. It was mess that made a statement… like, 'This is our space.' No adult supervision here.

"I'm jealous," I admitted, meaning it.

"Dork," Alec said, "What are you jealous for?"

"I meant it's cool," I protested, a touch defensively.

Lisa spoke before Alec could reply, "I think what Alec means is that this is your place now too. This is the team's space, and you're a member of the team, now."

"Oh," I said, feeling dumb. Lisa and Alec headed to the living room, while Brian walked off to the far end of the loft. When Lisa gestured for me to follow her, I did. Alec lay down, taking up an entire couch, so I sat on the opposite end of the couch from Lisa.

"The rooms," Lisa said, "Far side, in order of closest to farthest, are Alec, bathroom, mine." That meant Alec's room was the one with the crown, and Lisa's door had the face with the puckered lips. She went on, "On the side closer to us, Rachel's room, Rachel's dogs' room, and the storage closet."

Lisa paused, then glanced at Alec and asked, "You think she-"

"Duh," Alec cut her off.

"What?" I asked, feeling lost.

"We'll clean out the storage closet," Lisa decided, "So you have a room."

I was taken aback. "You don't have to do that for me," I told her, "I've got a place."

Lisa made a face, almost pained. She asked me, "Can we just do it anyways, and not make a fuss? It'd be a lot better if you had your own space here."

I must have looked confused, because Alec explained, "Brian has an apartment, and was pretty firm about not needing or wanting a room here… but he and Lisa have been arguing regularly because of it. He has nowhere to sleep but the couch if he gets hurt and can't go to his place, and there's no place to put his stuff, so it gets left all over. Take the room. You'll be doing us a favor."

"Okay," I said, submitting. I added, "Thank you," as much for the explanation as for the room itself.

"Last time he went up against Shadow Stalker, he came back here and bled all over a white couch," Lisa groused, "A nine hundred dollar couch and we had to replace it."

"Fucking Shadow Stalker," Alec commiserated.

Brian came back from the other end of the loft, raising his voice to be heard as he approached, "Rachel's not here, and neither are her dogs. She must be walking them or working. Dammit. I get stressed when she's out." He approached the couches and saw Alec sprawled on the one.

"Move your legs," Brian told him.

"I'm tired. Sit on the other couch," Alec mumbled, one arm over his face.

Brian glanced at Lisa and I, and Lisa scooted over to make room. Brian glared down at Alec and then sat between Lisa and I. I shifted my weight and tucked one leg under me to give him room.

"So," Brian explained, looking over at me, "Here's the deal. Two grand a month, just to be a member of the team. That means you help decide what jobs we do, you go on the jobs, you stay active, you're available if we need to call."

I fished out my iFenton out of my pocket (out of all my dad's names, that's the most original, which is a bit sad), and handed it to Brian to put in his and Lisa's contact information. I saw Lisa looking at my phone with interest.

"What kind of phone is that?" she asked.

"Just a souped up iPhone," I explained, in simple terms. She nodded, and Brian handed me my phone back. "Thanks."

Brian nodded, a small smile playing on his lips, "Now, how on the ball are you, as far as knowing what we're up against?"

I blinked a few times, then hedged, "For other local capes? I've done research online, read the cape magazines religiously for a few years, more since getting my powers… but I dunno. If the past twenty four hours have taught me anything, it's that there's a lot I don't know, and will only find out the hard way."

Brian smiled. I mean, really smiled. It made me think of a boy rather than a nearly-grown man. He replied, "Most don't get that, you know? I'll try to share what I know, so you aren't caught off guard, but don't be afraid to ask if there's anything you're not sure about, alright?"

I nodded, and his smile widened. He said, through a good natured chuckle, "Can't tell you how much of a relief it is that you take this stuff seriously, since some people -" he stopped to lean over and kick the side of the couch Alec was lying on, "-need me to twist their arms to get them listening, and some people," he jerked his thumb over his right shoulder, "think they know everything."

"I do know everything," Lisa said, "It's my power."

"What?" I said, interrupting Brian. I raised an eyebrow, asking, "You're omniscient?"

Lisa laughed, "No, no. I do know things though. My power tells me stuff."

"Correct me if I'm wrong," I said calmly, "but does your power help you fill the gaps between assumptions?" It was a bit of a shot in the dark, from what I know about her powers, but it was a good guess, seeing how her mouth fell open.

Alec laughed aloud. "Oh, geez!" he wheezed. "He figured out Lisa before she could figure out him!" He kept laughing.

"Oh, yeah, laugh it up," she said grumpily. I sent her a small consolidating smile. "Lucky guess," I offered. She nodded, and perked up a little bit, but not much.

"And," Brian said, glancing over at Lisa, "even if she knows a lot, that doesn't mean Lisa can't be a dumbass sometimes."

Lisa punched him in the arm. That seemed to cheer her up a little bit.

"So what are your powers then?" I asked Brian and Alec, hoping for a change in topic.

They didn't get a chance to tell me. I heard barking from downstairs. A matter of heartbeats later I watched three snarling dogs jumping at me, drool flying from their face and their mouths snarling, jumping right at me.

[][][][][]

 **[A/N]: Hey Rachel! It's great to see you again!**

 **~Slenderbrine**


	12. Daemons 2-6

**Daemons 2.6**

The dogs tried to attack me. Keyword there is _tried_.

The dogs must've taken a breath through their noses the second before they pounced on me because they immediately diverted their original course. They did their best to avoid me, two dogs clearing the couch, and a last dog flying into Brian, before seeking rescue in Lisa's lap.

I sighed, in annoyance for this happening again. Being a halfa, most animals' keen senses picked up my ghost half stronger than my human half. It was weird how they reacted. If they were dogs, birds, or large reptiles, the animals tried to stay away from me, giving me lots of room. As for cats, rodents, and smaller reptiles, they did their best to snuggle up to me. The only animal that defied this was Cujo, but he was a ghost puppy, so that might've counted as cheating.

I took a look at the three dogs that made a valiant attempt at attacking me. The two largest dogs, an ugly Rottweiler or a mutt with strong Rottweiler blood & a German Shepard, were lying in a heap behind the couch, tangled up in each other's limbs. The dog on Lisa's lap was a hairless terrier with an eye and ear missing. I felt some sympathy for the poor pup.

"What was that?" Brian asked me, looking amazed at the dogs' aversion to me. I shrugged and sighed, scratching the back of my head; a habit I had developed years ago, and never let go of. "Most dogs have an aversion to me because of my powers," I offered sheepishly, "The only exception is my own dog, Cujo."

There was a sharp whistle, and the dogs stood at attention. The dogs bounded over to another person coming up the stairs. I looked off to see a brutish girl reveal herself. I remembered her from the Parahumans Wiki. Rachel Lindt. Hellhound. Bitch

Bitch stood straight at the top of the stairs, observing me. Well, I observed her right back. Seeing her in person just confirmed my impressions of her from her picture online. She wasn't attractive. An unkind person might call her butch, but I wouldn't insult someone like her to her face. Most of her features looked like they would have been better fit on a guy rather than a girl. She had a square face, thick eyebrows, and a nose that had been broken more than once. Even as far as her physical build went, she was solidly built without being fat. The trunk of her body alone was bigger around than mine was with my arms down at my sides, just by virtue of having a thicker, broader torso and having more meat on her bones. She was wearing boots, black jeans with tears all over them, and a green army jacket over a gray hooded sweatshirt. Her auburn hair was cut shortish.

I took a deep breath, collecting my anger. Then I looked her right in the eye and asked "Why the fuck did you do that?"

She didn't reply. She scowled at me. It was a mean, ugly scowl, one I have seen very few bullies pull off. Sophia Hess came to mind, right before Dash Baxter.

"God fucking dammit!" Brian shouted. "Why the fuck would you do that, Rachel!?"

She shrugged, in indifference. Brian looked like her wanted to choke her. It was at that moment I noticed he had stood up.

For a few moments, I let my annoyance in this girl's petty attempt at attacking me get to me. The Dan in me told me to go up to her and beat the crap out of her; to show Bitch that I was the Alpha compared to her, and if she wanted to fuck with me, she was going to suffer the consequences. The Vlad in me told me to file this away, and save it for potential blackmailing in the later future.

The Danny Fenton in me told the other parts of me to shut the fuck up. I liked that voice.

Bitch saw me approaching and raised her fingers to her mouth, but I didn't attack, like she may have thought. Instead, I stuck out my hand, and introduced myself. "Hi," I said, "I'm Danny Fenton."

She eyed my hand, but didn't shake it. "The dogs don't like you," she said. It was an observation, but spoken like a statement.

I shrugged. "Yeah," I said. "Side effect of my powers."

"If the dogs don't like you, _I_ don't like you," she said.

"That's fine," I accepted. "Can you at least tolerate my presence?" At this point, my hand dropped to my side.

She nodded.

"Cool," I said, as a statement of agreement. "Oh, and while most dogs don't like me, my dog does enjoy my presence," I added.

She blinked, a minute way of showing either intrigue, or surprise. "You have a dog?" Again, it was like she was demanding an answer out of me, instead of asking a question. I nodded.

Silently, she stared, before shrugging. She whistled something of a shriller pitch, and the dogs bounded over to her sides. From there, she made her way to her room, and closed the door from the outside world.

There was a few seconds of silence, before Alec coughed, purposely breaking the void of sound. "That was...new," Alec commented. Brian gave him a look, and he rolled his eyes. "What else was I supposed to say?" Alec complained.

"So…" I said, looking off in the direction of Rachel's room, "what's her deal?"

Lisa shrugged. "Brian and I figure it has something to do with her trigger event. That she gained a great understanding of dogs, and their minute actions, but forgot how to converse with other people," she explained. I nodded in understanding.

"So she gained knowledge of how dogs emote themselves," I simplified, "but forgot social cues." Brian nodded.

I turned from Brian to the other boy in the loft "Alec. You were going to tell me what you do. You go by Regent, right?" I asked.

"The name is a long story, but what I do is this." He looked at me, and I felt my legs give out. Like, as if all of the sudden my legs decided to stop working. My body tumbled forwards, and I caught myself with my hands. Feeling...well, _feeling_ return to my legs, and continued to roll with my forward motion to spring back up on my feet. I bowed, and the other inhabitants of the loft, minus one, clapped.

"Nice moves you got there, dork!" Alec called out, laughing. Grateful for the break in the tension, I couldn't help but laugh too. "Thank you, thank you!" I mock-thanked, bowing again and again.

Once the laughter subsided, I turned to look at Alec once more. "So, you can controll people?" I asked.

Lisa turned to me and explained, "It's a bit complicated to explain, but basically, Alec can get into people's nervous systems. This lets him fire off impulses that set off reflexes or make body parts jerk into motion. It's not a dramatic power, but with timing, he can make someone fall over midstep, drop something, lose their sense of balance or pull the trigger on a gun."

I let out a low whistle. "That could really fuck someone up," I noted. She nodded in agreement. "What about Grue?" I asked.

"Shadow generator, with shadows that deprive you of your sensory input, as well as cut off radio signals, and dampen the effect of radiation," Lisa said. I grinned in amazement.

"Impressive," I complimented. He blushed in response. "And Rachel?" I asked, though I knew the answer. It was more for consistency's sake then information.

"I can give any dog a boost to make them super powerful."

I turned from where I was standing to see Rachel exiting her room. She plopped down on Alec's couch, who hastily moved his legs to avoid having them squashed. "I only boost my dogs because they understand my commands," she stated matter-of-factly. I nodded, in understanding and appreciation.

Alec's head perked up, like he remembered something. "So, dork," he asked, "what can you do?"

I rubbed my chin, curious about how to go about this. "You want me to tell? It's quite the list." Three out of four people nodded, and one just looked bored. I sighed, and took a deep, deep breath.

"Invisibility, intangibility, hard light blasts, cryokinesis, electric attacks, duplication, short-range teleportation, self-mutation, possession, super strength, super senses, flight, occasional time-based power immunity, andanextremelypowerfulsonicttack," I wheezed out, completely drained of breath. I took a few deep breaths with my eyes closed, and then opened them to see my new teammates. Lisa, Brian, and Alec stared at me in shock, while Rachel raised an eyebrow at me. I shrugged to all of them.

Alec, surprisingly, spoke first. "Dude," he said, not calling me a dork for once, "you could take on Legend with that many powers."

I shrugged. "Technically, I once beat two Endbringers, on separate occasions, all by myself," I boasted. Considering how much of a mess of the world Dan made in 10 years, I could certainly consider my potentially evil future self an Endbringer. And then there was Pariah Dark, who was another level of difficulty, who I had beaten, but thanks to the Fenton Ectoskeleton Suit. But they didn't need to know that.

"Two Endbringers…" Brian trailed off, staring at me. I looked away, shying away from the attention. "Lisa, is he telling the truth?"

Lisa shrugged helplessly. "I don't know," she admitted. "My power can't get a read on him."

I looked at her in surprise. Really? Was it because of my half-dead status?

"You are overpowered as all things fucked," Alec complimented. Was it a compliment? I'd take it as one. He continued, "'Occasional time-based attack immunity'? What the fuck does that even mean?"

I shrugged, letting them imagine what it could mean. I wasn't just about to tell them about my mentor just yet.

"How did you get that many powers…?" Lisa trailed off. I shrugged happily, and raised a single finger over my grin. "That would be telling," I teased. She rolled her eyes.

"What time is it?" I asked.

"Nineteen minutes before five," Lisa said. She didn't look at a watch or a clock as she said it, which was unsettling. It was a reminder that her power was constantly available to her.

Brian asked me, "Do you have somewhere you need to be?

"Home, I guess," I admitted, "My sister will wonder where I am."

"Call him," Lisa suggested, "Now that the introductions are over with, you can just hang out for a bit, if you want."

"We could order pizza," Alec suggested. Then when Lisa, Brian and Bitch all made faces, he added, "Or maybe everyone's sick of pizza and we could order something else."

"Stick around?" Brian made it a question.

I shrugged. "Sure," I agreed. "Just one sec."

I stepped away from the group for a sec and dialed my sister.

"Hey sis," I said, when I heard the phone being picked up.

"Danny! Are you alright?" She sounded worried. That tone wasn't unusual, considering I wasn't home before her.

"I'm fine, Jazz. Is it cool if I hang out with some people tonight?"

There was a pause.

"Are these the same people you met last night?" my sister asked. Always a step ahead if she could be.

"Yeah," I confirmed.

My eyes settled on their dining room table. There was a stack of money, wrapped with a paper band just as the money in the lunchbox had been. Beside the money, plain as day, was the dark gray metal of a handgun.

My attention was caught by the gun, but I still heard Jazz's question. "What are they like?"

Guns aside, this was still about the teenagers themselves; so, I answered honestly.

"They seem alright."

[][][][][]

 **[A/N]: Just an interlude left! And I only do interludes when they pertain to Danny and his story, so no Victoria interlude! Something a bit more...secret…**

 **~Slenderbrine**


	13. Daemons 2-X

**Daemons 2.X**

 _Interlude: Agent Omega_

The agent made his way through the sparkly, pristine white hallways of the base. While he did have an official title, and was an official member of the agency, his workload was little more than that of a glorified intern. He would carry reports to people, fill out paperwork, and do all sorts of little things. He even once worked as the janitor. He felt like anything _but_ the agent he wanted to be.

Agent Omega caught his reflection in one of the windows of a testing room. He was from New York, so of course he had white skin. His blond hair was combed, parted, and up to dress regulations, while his eyes shone with inexperience and hesitance, unlike the top agents. He towered over most of the agents at six-foot-three, however, despite being only twenty-two. His white suit was clean and spotless, contrasting greatly with his black leather shoes and black tie. Unlike even Agent Psi, he didn't get the cool black shades most agents got. He was Omega because he was the newbie, the lowest rank. For now, he hoped.

Right now, he had the most important task he had ever been assigned. It was important, even for an omega. He was to report to Agents Alpha and Beta to report what Inventors Fehu and Uruz had built. The naming system for the individuals was simple: Agents used the Greek alphabet, Inventors used Futhark, and Councilmen used the numbers one through five. The first letter/rune was top dog, while the Councilmen were all equal. Likewise, the last letter/rune was bottom dog. There was a set number of each, so the organization was small and closely knit together, so spies would be immediately exploited.

Agent Omega finally arrived to the agents' door. It said, on a gold plate on the steel door, 'Agents ⍺ & β'. Omega took a nervous gulp, shuffled the papers, and stepped into the room.

It was a fairly normal office, as far as offices went. It wouldn't seem out of place from a normal office in a normal building. There was a tan wooden desk in the center of the room, in front of three collapsable, white plastic chairs. There was a simple black-and-white checkered tile pattern on the floor, and even a potted plant in the corner of the room. What was a bit more paranormal were the books in a bookcase on one wall; books like 'Demons of the Afterlife' by Lucy Ferr, 'Scientific Study of the Arcane' by Puck Weirlight, and 'A Salem Study of Blood Blossoms' by John Fenton-Nightingale. The various different guns one the walls, light green and stainless steel colored blasters, were different then most normal offices, but everyone could be a little weird.

The people behind the desk, however, would _never_ be found in a normal office in a normal building.

They stood just shorter than Agent Omega himself, at six feet, each. Agent Alpha, on Omega's left, was white like him, but tanner, probably because of all his experience out in the field. His head was cleanly shaven, down to the point where Omega could barely see tiny stubs of hair desperately trying to grow back. Agent Beta, on Mega's right, was of the exact style as Alpha, the only difference was that Beta looked Caucasian. All three present in the room were wearing mandatory suits and ties.

Agent Alpha nodded. "Omega," he welcomed. He tone was soft, but demanded respect, which Agent Omega was ready to give. "Welcome. What is it you have to report?"

Omega mentally shaked himself off his awe of the senior agents, and cleared his throat. "Inventors Fehu and Uruz," Omega began, reading the neatly typed font of the paper, "have constructed a smaller and less taxing version of the previously named 'Fenton Ectoskeleton Suit'. It has now been dubbed the 'Master Engineering for Catching/Hunting', shortened to the MECH. This suit of technology is only to be worn by Agents in A-class or S-class threats, second only to the passive ghost Phantom, should he be around in the case of the threat."

Omega took a breath. Beta gave him some water, which the lowest agent thanks him for. He rehydrated his throat and continued.

"The PCT has continued to undergo Operation: Amity, with the help of donations from Vlad Masters, CEO of Dalv Co. and former mayor of Amity Park, and instrumentations played out by the President. Amity is currently being turned into a faux ghost town, with the deconstruction of the Fenton house underway. The lab will be seal in secret, lest it is needed in the future. The Ghost Portal has been shut down, and can only be opened by someone of the Fenton family bloodline."

Agent Omega looked up at the senior agents, who nodded their thanks to him. "Thank you, Agent Omega," Agent Beta thanked. His voice was a bit rougher than his partner's, but still demanded the same amount of respect.

Omega hesitated, just for a second, before attempting something. "Excuse me, sirs," he began, "but I just started work here about three months ago. What exactly is Operation: Amity?"

When they didn't respond, Omega widened his eyes and bowed. He began blabbering, "I am very sorry for de‒"

"No, no, settle down," Alpha waved off his chatter, with a friendly chuckle. "You are now a part of this organization, and deserve to know about it."

Alpha and Bravo gestured to the center seat, where Omega slinked into. The two top agents fell into their own office chairs. "Before we begin," Beta said, "do you know the difference between the PRT and the PCT?"

Omega glanced at them both in turn, not sure if it was a trick question. "Uh...yeah," he said, stiffly, "PRT stands for 'Parahuman Response Team', and is for responding to events that deal with the publicly-accepted superheroes. PCT stands for 'Paranormal Cover-up Team', and is responsible for covering up paranormal things that would upset the public into a frenzy."

Agents Alpha and Beta smiled. "Very good," the white agent commended. "But this next part is to stay secret, okay?"

"If it ever leaves this room," Beta warned, "there would be mass panics."

Omega turned between the two agents again, not sure what he was getting himself into. But he asked the question, so he would get his answer. "Yes, sirs!" he answered heartily, sitting straight in his chairs.

Alpha nodded. "Good." And they began talking.

"Roughly two years ago, Inventors Fehu and Uruz and their children had set up a Ghost Portal in their basement. It was an incredibly powerful energy source, one that could power their city for years without costing a cent. And eventually, when Vlad Masters got elected, it did!

"Out of all the malicious ghosts to come through, a single ghost came through named Danny Phantom. Phantom, sometimes called Invis-o-Bill (yes, it is a stupid name), would come out of the Zone, using Fenton technology, and capture the ghosts, releasing them back into the Ghost Zone. We had a few altercations with him, while we were the newly formed Guys in White, but he always outclassed us. We gave up and made a treaty with him, but that part comes later.

"Now, a little over a year and a half ago, two ghosts at the threat level of Endbringers showed up, one after another," Alpha said to Omega.

"TWO Endbringers!? At once?" Omega exclaimed, scared and surprised.

"Not at once. One after the other, but still plenty scary," Beta commented. Alpha nodded in agreement. "Anyways," Alpha continued.

"The first Endbringer to appear was Pariah Dark. He was the King of all Ghosts, ruler of the Ghost Zone, and accidentally woken up by one of Phantom's many enemies, Plasmius. This ghost attempted to take over the world, but became trapped in the town thanks to the Fentons."

"Then what happened?" Omega asked, like an eager child listening to a bedtime story.

"Then," Alpha said, "Pariah got angry, and ended up ripping the town into the Ghost Zone. He was powerful enough to rip an enourmous plot of land into another dimension, while we would've continued to still fail to build artificial ghost portals, if not for our top Inventors."

Omega nodded, listening with intent.

"After a long rebellion of the humans against the invading ghosts, Fehu and Uruz, in a ceasefire, gave the Prototype MECH suit to Phantom. It powered him over a hundred times past his limits, and with that, he was able to defeat the King of Ghosts, and lock him away for another age."

"Wow," Omega said. "Is that what the MECH is going to be for?"

Agents Alpha and Beta nodded. "This smaller, more compact MECH will only power up a normal human ten times their possible capabilities. If Phantom wore it, it would power him up to fifty times stronger," Beta explained.

Omega rubbed his chin as a thought popped into his head. "What if a cape wore it?" he asked.

"A cape?" Beta asked aloud, confused.

"Public slang for parahuman in costume."

"Oh," Beta said. "I don't think we ever tested the idea, did we?" He turned to Alpha.

Agent Alpha shook his head. He turned to Omega. "Tell Fehu and Uruz to get on that, alright?" Omega nodded, and nearly got up out of his seat, before asking, "What about the other Endbringer?"

Instead of getting an answer, the Agents just shrugged. "We have no idea," Beta said, upset at the lack of information. "It was an hour-long battle between Phantom and a monstrous version of himself. During the fight, Phantom gained a new sonic attack that could completely destroy the area in front of him," Alpha supplied. "We asked Phantom about it nearly a week afterwards and he just shrugged us off, saying, 'Time anomaly. Took care of it, Please, just leave it at that.' So we did."

Omega nodded, but then cocked his head. "You never told me what Operation: Amity was," he half-complained, half-asked.

Alpha shrugged. "If you couldn't tell at this point, the public was getting really restless. By the time we got permission from the president to condemn the town and construct it into an abandoned ghost town, multiple other incredibly powerful, A-class ghosts went to town on the town."

Beta chimed in, "Operation: Amity is just us dispersing the townspeople, and keeping them quiet."

Omega nodded, and thanked them for their information. He got up, and put his foot halfway out the door, before asking, "What ever happened to Fehu and Uruz's kids?"

"Oh, them?" Alpha responded. "They got moved to Brockton Bay in Massachusetts. The parents occasionally go visit them, once a month for a weekend."

"Ah," Omega said. "Alright."

"And remember!" Alpha called out to the retreating form of Omega. "Don't talk about it!"

"Talk about what?" the voice of Omega echoed into the senior agents' office.

Agents Alpha and Bravo sighed, and sat down. "He seems like a good kid," Beta remarked.

"Yeah," Alpha agreed. One of the guns on the all caught his eye, as the agent looked at it. "Remember our days as Operatives K and O?"

"We were so inexperienced," Beta reminisced fondly.

Alpha grunted in agreement. After a few minutes of silence passed between the agents thinking of the old agency, Beta turned to Alpha. "Ever wondered how Phantom is doing off right now?"

Alpha snorted. "He's probably having the time of his afterlife, not having to deal with any of this secrecy crap."

"Yeah."

[][][][][]

 **[A/N]: And THAT's the end of Arc 2. The bank robbery draws closer! Exposition is given! The Guys in White grow nicer and competent! And my story has grown!  
**

 **No, for realsies on that last exclamation. This story has taken off to heights I never imagined ever getting to with any story, like, EVER. 40+ Favorites and 50+ Followers, over 5K views, and we're only two arcs in? Geez, do you guys really like this story that much? Well, I'll try my best not to disappoint! Anyways, I'll try my best to have 'Restless 3.1' up before this upcoming Wednesday!**

 **I'd like to thank the following people for either favoriting, following, or both since then end of the Spectral Arc: _BaconLover1800, Blue is the Sea, Chaotic Lion, DG a.k.a Dragon Gurl, DragonFireReboot, Dutoc, El Chiade, Exodus2150, Fear the Fuzzy Bear, Garuru, Hanzo of the Salamander 2.0, HikariNiwa, Hirushoten, Jack the Stalker, K0tar, Kammari, Lael Harrington, Lilyqz, Lord-Frostbite, LoupGarou53, MEleeSmasher, Marcus Galen Sands, Nova Bucker, Reiders, SEESWildCard, SOP369369, Sanguinis13, Scorpio's Corpse, Spirit rune, StrangerDanger51, TheSentinelStone, Timekeeper78, Trickster True, Zarohk Korobase, ZergKnight97, animefreak701139, bastien756, bionicstar, boyrich, bsdurler1900, clockmen, cogito1990, darkkingmaster, dresden12, forlornpeace, gasacan90, gvr18, jamestine, kadehex, mr I hate znt nobles kill em, nodos333, .39, shadowace2400, terfa,_ and _xbox432_! Thanks for liking my story!**

 **Have a great day, peeps!**

 **~Slenderbrine**


	14. Restless 3-1

**Restless 3.1**

I woke up again, Tuesday morning. I headed downstairs in my sweats and shirt, expecting my sister to be making breakfast, maybe eating it. To my surprise, she was studying the contents of a box. I couldn't see exactly what it was, so I walked up to her. "What's in the box, Jazz?" I asked.

She shrugged. "I don't know," she admitted, "but it's probably from someone you know."

I took the box held in her outstretched hand. "Why do you say that?" I asked.

Jazz shrugged. "My friends don't send me strange things," she explained, "and unless Mom and Dad changed their color scheme, it's not from them."

I reached my hand into the box and found a chain. I pulled on it, and out came a golden gear on a chain, with the initials 'C.W.' inscribed on either side of it. "Oh," I let out, surprised at the medallion. Jazz gave me a look, and I shrugged. "It's from Clockwork," I explained, mentioning my ghostly mentor/frienemy/acquaintance. I slipped on the medallion beneath my shirt, and let it hang there for a moment or two. I stretched, and grabbed a piece of bacon out of the frying pan on the frying pan. "I'm going on my run," I announced. "See ya', Jazzypants."

"Be safe, Danny," she warned. My sister gave me a hug, and I ran out the door.

There was something appealing about being out and about before the city had woken up. I didn't usually get out quite this early, so it was a refreshing change. As I headed east at a brisk jog, there were no cars or people on the street. It was six thirty in the morning, and the sun had just finished rising, so the shadows were long. The air was cool enough for my breath to fog. It was like Brockton Bay was a ghost town, but in a good way, and not in a 'ghostly invasion' way. As I got further, and further away, I started to speed up more and more.

I took in my surroundings. There was next to no people, save a drunken hobo. And no one would take the word of a drunken hobo. I smirked, and let myself run at my full potential to the Boardwalk. See, in Brockton Bay, going east took you to one of two places. You either ended up at the Docks, or you ended up at the Boardwalk. Because most areas of the Docks were not the sort of place that you just breezed through, given the vagrants, gang members and general crime, I stuck to main roads leading past the Docks and to the Boardwalk. It was safer for both me and the nameless thugs of the Docks. It was usually close to seven by the time I got to the bridge that went over Lord Street. From there, it was a block to the Boardwalk.

As I ran faster, and faster, blocks started blurring together. I practically teleported past blocks, moving roughly a city block per second. There was no one on the roads or sidewalks, so I was free to run as fast as I want. I knew I looked like a gray blur, rushing at an extremely fast pace. In nearly no time at all, I had finally arrived at the Boardwalk. I slowed down from blur, to run, to jog, to brisk walking speed by the time my footsteps made the hard sound of stepping on wooden boards.

Along the boardwalk, people were starting their day. Most places were still closed, with the top notch security systems, steel shutters and iron grates protecting all of the expensive stores, but there were cafes and restaurants opening up. Other stores had vans parked in front, and were busy loading in their shipments. There were only a few people out and about, which made it easy to find Brian, who requested to meet with me here.

Brian was leaning on the wooden railing, looking over the beach. Balanced on the railing next to him was a paper bag and a cardboard tray with a coffee in each of the four pockets. I stopped beside him, and he greeted me with deep nod.

"Hey,"Brian greeted, "you're early". He looked different than he had when I saw him on Monday. He was wearing a sweater under a felt jacket, his jeans didn't have any rips or tears in them, and his boots were shined. On Monday, he had given me the impression of a regular person who lived at the Docks. The fashionable, well fit clothes he wore today made him look like someone who belonged on the Boardwalk alongside the customers who shopped in stores where nothing cost less than a hundred dollars. The contrast and the ease with which he seemed to make the transition was startling. I suppose that was what earning hundreds of dollars per month as a villain earned you..

I shrugged it off. "I'm a fast runner," I supplied. I added on, "When I want to be". He nodded.

He gestured towards the paper bag, offering, "I got donuts and croissants from the cafe over there, and a coffee if you want it."

"Danny wants," I said, but then I felt dumb for the awkward lapse into talking in the third person. I blamed the early hour of the day. To try and save face, I added, "Thanks." Brian chuckled at my misfortune.

I fished out a sugar-dusted donut and bit into it. I could tell right away that it wasn't the kind of donut that was mass produced at some central factory and delivered overnight to the shops for baking in the morning. It was freshly made, probably right at the store a block away, sold right out of the oven. All-in-all: it tasted _goooood_.

"So good," I praised, sucking the sugar from my fingertips before reaching for one of the coffees. Seeing the logo, I looked over at the cafe and asked, "Don't coffees there cost, like, fifteen dollars a cup?"

Brian chuckled a little, saying, "We can afford it, dude."

I shrugged, accepting it. These guys were raking in thousands of dollars on a given job, and they had given me two thousand dollars up front. I briefly wondered how to go about depositing my money. It would be suspicious if I just showed up with two grand in cash to deposit in a bank. I'd ask Lisa later if there was a way to remotely and discreetly enter the cash into my back account.

"Yeah, I guess you're right," I admitted, eventually. I leaned my elbows on the wooden railing beside Brian and stared out over the water. There were a few diehard windsurfers just getting ready to start the day. I guess it made sense, since there would be the occasional boat going out on the water, later.

"Just so you know," Brian told me, "just from what I saw after you left last night and as people were waking up this morning, Rachel seems to have stopped protesting quite as loudly or often about the idea of having someone new join the team. She's still not happy about it, but I would be surprised if there was a repeat performance."

"I'd feel bad for her dogs more than anything if she tried," I remarked. "What's her problem?" I tried asking the question platonically, and not accusingly.

"She's kind of a special case," Brian said. "I think that growing up the way she did kind of messed her up. No family, too old and, uh, not really attractive enough to be a good candidate for adoption. I feel bad saying that, but that's the way those things work, you know?" He glanced over his shoulder at me.

I nodded.

"So she spent a good decade in foster care, no fixed place to live, fighting tooth and nail with the other foster kids for even the most basic luxuries and possessions. My guess? She was screwed up before she got her powers, and with things happening the way they did, her powers pushed her into the deepest end of the antisocial pool."

"Makes sense," I said, and then added, "I read her page on the wiki."

"So you've got the gist of it," Brian said, "She's a handful to deal with, even for me, and I think she actually considers me a friend…or as much a friend as someone like her can have, anyways. But if you can at least tolerate her, you should see we've got a pretty good thing going with the team."

"Sure," I said, "Maybe I can bring my dog over."

He shrugged. "Maybe that'll help you with her," he offered. I shrugged as well.

I began to get bored, and outstretched my arm over the railing. I summoned my cryokinesis into my hand, and started to form a shape. By the time Brian noticed what I was doing, I had made a pocket-sized sculpture of one of Rachel's monster dogs I remembered from the first night I met the Undersiders. "Can you make anything with your cryokinesis?" Brian asked.

I shrugged. "Yeah," I answered. I handed the ice sculpture to Brian. "Give that to Rachel, as a token of not trying to kill me," I offered. "It'll only melt when I give the go-ahead, and I'm not about to any time soon."

"You could always give it to her yourself," Brian supplied. I shook my head, sad. "Nah," I said, "I have school."

"Oh, yeah," Brian remarked. "I forgot about stuff like that."

"You guys don't go?" I asked incredulously.

"Nope," the other male denied. "My folks think it's so I can hold a job to pay for my apartment… which is kind of true. I'm taking online classes, Alec dropped out, Rachel never went in the first place, and Lisa already has her G.E.D. She cheated with her power, of course, but she still has it."

"Ah," I said, my focus more or less dwelling on the idea that Brian had an apartment. Not the fact that Grue the successful supervillain had an apartment – Lisa had mentioned that to me – but that Brian the teenager with parents and schoolwork to focus on did. He kept changing my frame of reference for trying to figure him out.

"Here, a gift of your own," he said, as he reached into his pocket and then extended his hand. I put my hand under his, and he dropped a key with a short beaded chain looped through it into my palm.

"That's to our place," he told me, "And I mean that. Ours as in yours too. You're free to come by anytime, even if nobody is there. Kick back and watch TV, eat our food, track mud on our floor, yell at the others for tracking mud on the floor, whatever."

"Thanks," I said, meaning it.

"You going to come by after school, or should I meet you here again tomorrow morning?"

I thought on it for a second. Last night, not long before I'd left, Brian and I had gotten to talking about sparring. When I had mentioned my morning runs, he had suggested meeting me regularly. The idea was to keep me up to date, since I wasn't living at the group's hideout like Lisa, Alec and Rachel were. It had made sense, and I'd agreed. Plus, I'd gain a interesting look at how other people fought, and Brian could get some experience in fighting people who play _really_ unfairly.

"I'll come by later," I decided aloud. Before we could get caught in another thread of conversation, I gave him a quick wave and started my run back, the key to their place clenched in my hand. I ran back slower now, since there were more pedestrians up an about. I got home by 7:10 AM. I changed into my usual wear, and headed downstairs, grabbing my backpack. Kissing my sister on the cheek goodbye, I left the house, headed for school with a weight settled in my stomach.

I wondered if things would be different. Maybe the school would expel me, or everyone would stay away from the 'psycho kid'. At least then I could eat my food in peace during lunch. I hopped on the bus, and rode it to school.

The first person I encountered upon my arrival to school was, surprisingly, _not_ a teacher or a traditional bully. I recognized the girl from yesterday; shoulder-length brunette hair, nervous green eyes, and short enough to barely come up to my shoulder. I blinked, unsure of why the girl was standing in front of the school.

When I got off the bus, and walked towards the school, and the girl by extension, she noticed me. The girl waved, and I looked around, making sure she was talking to me. I pointed at myself. The girl nodded enthusiastically. _'Weird…'_ I thought. _'Is this a trap?'_

I walked up to the girl. "Hello?" I greeted, confused. Hannah Farrow looked away, all of the sudden shy again. "Hi…" she muttered quietly.

"Umm…" I trailed off. "Was there a reason you wanted to see me?"

Hannah took a deep breath, looking like she was preparing herself for D-Day. "Yes," she confirmed. "I'd like to apologize."

I stared at the girl. "Apologize," I stated, but also questioned.

"Yeah," she said, her cheeks gaining a rosy tint. "I'm sorry for pretending to make you a bully and for joining the others on picking you."

I looked at her, incredulous, before looking at the sun. "What class do you have first period?" I asked. She looked at me, unsure of the train of conversation. "English with Mrs. Mariah," she said, "but why‒"

"Good, that's next to Mrs. Knott's room," I said. I began walking. "Walk with me," I requested. Hannah Farrow fell into step with me.

"So what brought up this confession?" I asked, intrigued as to why a bully was now not being a bully. She shrugged, and looked away. "You're strong...right?" she asked, quietly to the point of whispering under her own breath. My ears picked it up all the same.

"Yeah," I confirmed, "but what does that have to do with anything?"

"I'll tell you," Hannah said, glancing around nervously, "but I need you to promise to protect me, okay?" She stared into my eyes, her own forest green ones filled with fear.

"Uhh…" I was feeling a bit lost here. "...okay?" 

"Thank you!" she exclaimed, and suddenly hugged me. "Sophia has been threatening me and the other girls that if we didn't join up and help bully you, she was going to beat us all up and put us in the hospital!" she started crying.

Awkwardly, I put my arms around her, and hugged her back. "Hey, hey, it'll be alright," I said, trying to comfort her. She sniffed, and looked up at me. "For managing to get out free, Sophia has a lot of bad things planned for you today," she warned. "It'd be safer to just leave school, again, today."

"What about you?" I asked her, now taking the bully-turned-actual-victim into account. She wiped her eyes clear of tears and shook her head. "They won't know I told you today," she said. "Just come back and help me tomorrow or something, alright?"

I nodded. "Thank you, for real," I thanked. She nodded, smiled, and turned away from me. I turned away from the school, from my bullies, from the teachers. I left the school, wondering what I was going to do now.

Then I remembered the key in my pocket.

[][][][][]

 **[A/N]: So, yeah. Hannah Farrow. When I made her, I just wanted an excuse to have Danny punch a hole in Blackwell's desk, but now she's presenting so many wonderful opportunities, I can't help but keep her around. What fun! And the bank job comes up soon, as well as a gift from Clockwork. I wonder how that'll change things...**

 **~Slenderbrine**


	15. Restless 3-2

**Restless 3.2**

After transforming into Agloolik, I began my lazy flight to the Undersiders' home base. I kept closer to the ground than normal, just hovering above the tops of buses, to distract myself.

It was a nice day, if a bit windy. The air was crisp and cool, the sky was a brilliant and cloudless blue that was reflected in the ocean, and the sand of the beach sparkled in the light of the sun. Tourists were already crowding the railings or migrating to the beach, pinning down the corners of their beach blankets beneath picnic baskets and shopping bags. It was too cold to go in the water but the view was spectacular. I enjoyed it for a few moments before floating above the crowd, in the direction of the Undersiders' loft; my loft as well, now. I wondered how the tourists would react if I suddenly became visible.

I watched the Vietnamese teenagers leaning against the railing of the boardwalk, knowing were members of the ABB, even if they weren't wearing their gang colors, because the only Asian kids in Brockton Bay that had that much swagger were already part of Lung's gang. I knew the tattoo on the arm of the guy lifting boxes into the florist's van that read 'Erase, Extinguish, Eradicate' meant the guy was a white supremacist because it had the letter E repeated three times. The three Es were the same three Es that stood for Empire Eighty-Eight. Why 'eighty-eight'? Because 88 are the corresponding numbers to HH, which are the first letters of 'Heil Hitler'. Fun little trivia facts.

The man in the uniform who was talking to a shop owner wasn't a cop or security guard, but one of the enforcers the merchants of the Boardwalk hired to keep the undesirables from making trouble. They were why the Boardwalk didn't have beggars, addicts, or people wearing gang colors hanging around. If your presence offended or worried the tourists, they would step up to scare you off. If someone shoplifted or panhandled in the Boardwalk, they ran the risk that one or two enforcers would drag them behind one of the shops and teach them a lesson. Anything more serious than shoplifting or panhandling, well, there was always someone on duty in the floating base of the Protectorate Headquarters. Any of the store owners or employees could call the likes of Miss Militia, Armsmaster or Triumph in, given a minute. The tourism revenue the Boardwalk picked up earned a lot of goodwill from the government and government sponsored capes.

If I was really bored, I could've given them a real show. But I wasn't looking for a fight anymore.

I diverted my course off the boardwalk and into one of the alleys leading into the Docks. The abandoned factories, warehouses and garages of the Docks all blended into one another very quickly. The colors of the building exteriors weren't different enough from one another to make buildings recognizable, and the people or piles of garbage that I had been unconsciously noting my previous visit had all shifted locations or been replaced. I found myself glad for the artistic graffiti and the row of weed-entangled power lines that I could use as landmarks. I did not want to get lost. Not here.

I was coming up on the building when something _weird_ happened. I felt a shift, an unnatural, evil-feeling shift. I fell to the ground, going light headed and losing feeling. I could feel the rings of light wash over my body as I turned back into Danny Fenton. After the feeling subsided, I stood up, rubbing my heads. Wait...heads?

I was suddenly aware of something, something incredibly difficult to explain. It was like I had a clone, but I was standing in the same exact spot as my clone. But the clone wasn't weaker or anything. It had the same amount of power as I normally had, so now my power capacity was doubled. I touched my medallion, and felt how warm it was, and then I suddenly realized what was going on.

Someone split the timeline into two concurrent timelines at this point. But the next question was: why?

I groaned, getting up one me stumbled to the left a little bit, and the other me stayed straight. It was like having two Prime clones, and it was weird. I managed to stumble my way to the huge factory with the Redmont Welding sign. I took my keys out of my pockets and unlocked the doors. Everything was beginning to become plural to me.

I opened the door, and stumble my way up the stairs. When I got to the top of the stairs, I was able to distinguish one universe between the other.

[][][][][]

 **Universe A:**

When I managed to stumble my way up the stairs, I collapsed to my knees, catching everyone's attention. Alec and Brian were sparring in the living room, and Rachel was out of sight. What I did notice, was Lisa's presence in the kitchen, talking to someone on the phone. _'That's different,'_ I thought.

"Oh, geez Danny!" Brian exclaimed, noticing me. "You look like shit."

Alec nodded. "Seriously, dork," the teen said, "you look like you picked a fight with the universe, and lost."

I shrugged. "Someone is tampering with time, and because of my powers, I can feel it," I explained. Brian helped me onto one of the couches. "It's really, really weird for me. What's going on with you two?"

"Alec and I were sparring," Brian told me, "Lisa's on the phone in the kitchen. Rachel and her dogs are in her room. You can watch us, if you want, but no pressure. Feel free to use the TV, put on a DVD or play a video game."

"Don't save over any of my files, dork," Alec said.

"My name is Danny, not dork, thank you very much," I refuted pointlessly. Turning to Brian, I said, "I'll watch, if it's cool."

Brian smiled and nodded, while I moved to kneel on the couch and watch them over the back of it.

As it turned out, it was less of a 'sparring' session than an attempt on Brian's part to give a less than fully committed Alec some basic lessons on hand to hand fighting. However, despite Alec's lack of commitment, I got a good look at Grue's fighting style. He seemed to use a combination of mixed martial arts and boxing, more relying on his body weight and punches to do the job for him. Alec just tried his best to avoid whatever attacks came his way.

"I keep telling you," Brian said, "You're throwing punches like you'd throw a baseball. Don't bring your arm so far back before you punch. You're just broadcasting what you're about to do and it doesn't add enough power to the hit to be worth that."

"What am I supposed to do, then?"

"Look at how I'm standing. Arms up, bent, then I just extend my arm, wrist straight. Fast enough that whoever I'm hitting generally can't step out of the way, so they've got to either take it or block it."

"But you weren't standing like that ten seconds ago when I was punching you," Alec complained.

"I left an opening to see if you would take advantage of it," Brian replied.

"And I didn't," Alec noted with a sigh.

Brian shook his head.

"Well fuck this then," Alec said, "If you're going to go easy on me and still kick my ass, I don't see the point."

"You should learn how to fight," Brian said.

"I'll do like I have been and bring my taser," was Alec's response, "one poke and they're out cold. Better than any punch."

"And if the taser breaks or you lose it?" Brian asked. He needn't have bothered. Alec was already sitting himself down in front of the TV, remote in one hand and game controller in the other. Brian's disappointment was palpable.

I rubbed my head, as a similar chain of events was playing out in the other universe.

[][][][][]

 **Universe B:**

When I managed to stumble my way up the stairs, I collapsed to my knees, catching everyone's attention. Alec and Brian were sparring in the living room, and Rachel was out of sight. What I did notice, was Lisa's presence on the couch, observing Brian and Alec. _'That's different,'_ I thought.

"Oh, geez Danny!" Brian exclaimed, noticing me. "You look like shit."

Lisa turned to me, eyes narrowed. "Is there something wrong?"

I shrugged. "Someone is tampering with time, and because of my powers, I can feel it," I explained. Brian and Alec helped me onto one of the couches. "It's really, really weird for me. What's going on with you guys?"

"Alec and I were sparring," Brian told me, "and Lisa is watching. Rachel and her dogs are in her room. You can watch us, if you want, but no pressure. Feel free to use the TV, put on a DVD or play a video game."

"Don't save over any of my files, dork," Alec said.

"Meh, we'll see," I teased. Ignoring whatever Alec was refuting, I pretended he didn't exist at that moment in time. Turning to Brian, I said, "I'll watch, if it's cool."

Brian smiled and nodded, while I moved to kneel on the couch and watch them over the back of it.

As it turned out, it was less of a 'sparring' session than an attempt on Brian's part to give a less than fully committed Alec some basic lessons on hand to hand fighting. However, despite Alec's lack of commitment, I got a good look at Grue's fighting style. He seemed to use a combination of mixed martial arts and boxing, more relying on his body weight and punches to do the job for him. Alec just tried his best to avoid whatever attacks came his way. Lisa sat next to me, watching the other two boys with a similar level of intensity.

"I keep telling you," Brian said, "You're throwing punches like you'd throw a baseball. Don't bring your arm so far back before you punch. You're just broadcasting what you're about to do and it doesn't add enough power to the hit to be worth that."

"What am I supposed to do, then?"

"Look at how I'm standing. Arms up, bent, then I just extend my arm, wrist straight. Fast enough that whoever I'm hitting generally can't step out of the way, so they've got to either take it or block it."

"But you weren't standing like that ten seconds ago when I was punching you," Alec complained.

"I left an opening to see if you would take advantage of it," Brian replied.

"And I didn't," Alec noted with a sigh.

Brian shook his head.

"Well fuck this then," Alec said, "If you're going to go easy on me and still kick my ass, I don't see the point."

"You should learn how to fight," Brian said.

"I'll do like I have been and bring my taser," was Alec's response, "one poke and they're out cold. Better than any punch."

"And if the taser breaks or you lose it?" Brian asked. He needn't have bothered. Alec was already sitting himself down in front of the TV, remote in one hand and game controller in the other. Brian's disappointment was palpable.

"Do you have any cots or anything?" I asked aloud. Lisa and Brian turned to look at me, while Alec blatantly ignored me. "I'm going to get some rest."

Lisa pointed over to a corner, where a relatively clean cot was unfolded. I trudged over to it, and lied down, focusing all of my energy and focus into the first universe.

[][][][][]

 **Universe A:**

I shivered as the other universe's me sent me a big influx of power. I felt supercharged now, like I could take on Undergrowth one-on-one. "So," I said, trying to make conversation, "where do you guys get all of your gear and stuff?"

"Well," Brian began, "the boss is good about supplying us with gear. Lisa's the one who talks to him, she's talking to him right now, in fact. Put in a word with her if you want something like that. It's untraceable too, so the good guys aren't going to be tracing any serial numbers or whatever from your weapon back to your purchase."

The fact that Lisa was talking to their boss made me realize something: here she was talking to our boss, but in the second universe, Lisa was relaxing with the rest of us. SO whoever out boss was, he or she could make two concurrent timelines run next to each other. I wondered if they could take information from both timeline like I could. To keep up the speech, I asked, "So who is this boss of ours?"

Brian and Alec exchanged a look. When they didn't immediately say anything, I wondered if I'd pushed it too far. Had I been too nosy?

"Figured you'd ask," Brian said, "Thing is, we don't know."

"What?" I asked, intrigued, "We have an anonymous sponsor?"

"It's really fucking weird, yeah," Alec said, then he hammered a button on the game controller, "Boom! Triple headshot!"

"Alec, stay focused," Brian sighed the words, with a tone suggesting he didn't expect to be listened to.

Alec bobbed his head in a nod, his eyes not leaving the television, before adding, "It's weird but it's basically free money, a good team, contacts, access to everything we need for stuff, and pretty much no drawbacks."

"Lisa knows, I think," Brian grumbled, "but she says that when she joined the Undersiders, she made a deal that she was going to keep quiet on the subject. I'm not sure if that means she knows who he is or if it's just to keep her mouth shut if her power tells her."

"So let me get this straight," I said, "This guy gathers you all together, offers you a salary and what? Doesn't ask for anything in return?"

Brian shrugged, "He asks us to do jobs, but most of the time it's stuff we'd do anyways, and if we say no, he doesn't make an issue of it."

"What kind of jobs does he ask us to do?" I asked.

Lisa's voice just behind me startled me, since she was only talking in one universe for me. "This. Pull up your socks, boys.

"We're robbing a bank."

[][][][][]

 **[A/N]: Hehe. Danny has to deal with existing in two places at once. Shame that he never took quantum physics in high school. Oh well. The bank job is so close! Danny is now supercharged, as well as having an idea of their boss' power! And we diverge even farther than canon! Oh, and btw, if you really like Glory Girl, you may wanna skip bank job chapters; she's gonna get fucking rekt. Lol, Glory Scrub.**

 **~Slenderbrine**


	16. Restless 3-3

**Restless 3.3**

"No," Brian said almost immediately. "That's a terrible idea."

Lisa still had the cell phone in her hand. Rachel had come in just behind her, standing in stark contrast to Lisa's jeans, sweater and tight ponytail, with a worn-and-torn army jacket and incredibly messy hair hair. The smallest of the dogs, the one-eyed, one eared terrier, trailed after her, staying on the side of Rachel that I wasn't closest to.

"Come on," Lisa wheedled, "It's a rite of passage for dastardly criminals like us."

"Robbing a bank is idiotic. We've talked about this," Brian closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose, as if tired of having to repeat something again for the nth time. Seeing as what he just said, he probably was. "You know what the average haul is for hitting a bank?"

Lisa paused, "Twenty thousand?"

"Exactly. It's not the millions of dollars you see people getting away with in the movies. Banks don't keep a lot of loose cash on hand, so we'd be pulling in less than we would for most other jobs. Account for cost and the fact that this is Brockton fucking Bay, where banks have a little more reason to keep the amount of cash in their vaults to a minimum, and we'd be bringing in twelve to sixteen thou. Divide five ways and it's what, two or three thousand bucks each?"

"I could do with an extra three thousand dollars to spend," Alec said, putting down his game controller and shifting his position on the couch to follow the conversation better.

"On what?" Brian asked. When Alec shrugged, Brian sighed and explained, "It's a nowhere near an equal payoff for the amount of risk involved. There's three big superhero teams in this city. Figure there's another dozen heroes that fly solo, and we're almost guaranteed to get into a fight."

"So?" Bitch spoke up for the first time, "We win fights. We won before we had _him_." She raised her chin in my direction as she said that last word. I just shrugged it off.

"We won because we picked our battles," Brian explained, "We wouldn't have that option if we were cooped up in the bank and waiting for them to come to us, letting them decide how and where the fight happened."

Lisa nodded and smiled as he spoke I thought for a second that she was going to say something, or argue, but she didn't.

Brian continued, getting surprisingly passionate as he ranted, "We won't be able to slip away like we have when things got a little out of control in the past. Can't avoid the fight if we want to get away with anything worth taking. The bank is going to have layers of protection. Iron bars, vault doors, whatever. Even with your power, Lise, there's a limit to how fast we can get through those. Add the time we have to spend managing hostages and making a safe exit, and I pretty much guarantee that there will be time for a cape to get wind of the robbery and slow us down even more."

Alec said, "I kind of want to do it anyways. Hitting a bank gets you on the front page. It's huge for our rep."

"The runt is right," Rachel said.

Brian grumbled, "Not fucking up is better for our reputation in the long run." His deeper voice was really good for grumbling.

Alec looked at me, "What do you think?"

I exhaled deeply and thought back to Freakshow. "Well," I started, "I've only hit a bank once, ever, and it was an easy hit, but only because my old town didn't have any PRT, and my powers work well for letting me get into places unnoticed."

""Oh, yeah," Alec said, "You and your, like, billion powers." I gave him a flat look, and he laughed.

Lisa leaned forward, "You make good points, but I have better ones. Hear me out?" The rest of us turned our attention to her, though Brian had a frown that made it seem like it would take a lot to convince him.

"Ok, so Brian said similar stuff before, before we hit that casino a few weeks ago. So I was kind of expecting this. But it's not as bad as it sounds. The boss wants us to do a job at a very specific time. I got the sense he was willing to offer a fair bit if we went the extra mile, and I negotiated a pretty good deal.

"The bank robbery was my idea, and he liked it. According to him, the Protectorate is busy with an event on Thursday, just outside of town. That's part of the reason the timing is so important. If we act then, there's almost no chance we'll have to deal with them. If we hit the Bay Central, downtown-"

"That's the biggest bank in Brockton Bay," I interrupted her. "That's pretty ballsy."

"So everything I said about them having security and being careful is doubly true," Brian added.

"If we hit the Bay Central, downtown," Lisa repeated herself, ignoring us, "then we're hitting a location just a mile away from Arcadia High, where most of the Wards go to school. Given jurisdictions, New Wave won't be able to jump on us without stepping on the Wards' toes, which pretty much guarantees we go up against the team of junior superheroes. With me so far?"

We all nodded or murmured agreement, sans Rachel, who just continued to wait and listen.

"Figure that's happening in the middle of the school day, and they won't all be able to slip away to stop a robbery without drawing attention. People know the Wards are attending Arcadia, they just don't know who they are. So everyone's constantly watching for that. Since they can't have all six or seven of the same kids disappear from class every time the Wards go off to foil a crime without giving away the show, chances are good that we'd go up against a couple of their strongest members, or one of the strongest with a group of the ones with less amazing powers. We can beat them."

"Okay," Brian begrudged, "I'll accept that we'd probably do alright in those circumstances, but-"

Lisa interrupted him, "I also got the boss to agree to match us two for one on the haul. We bring in fifteen grand, he pays us thirty. Or he gives us enough money to bring our total up to twenty five, whichever is more in the end. So we could walk away with two thousand dollars and he'd pay us twenty three thou. So as long as we don't wind up in jail, we're guaranteed five thousand dollars apiece, bare minimum."

My eye's and Brian's eyes widened. Brian spoke first, "That's insane. Why would he do that?"

"And," Lisa grinned, "He'll cover all our costs, just this once. Equipment, information, bribes if we want 'em."

"Why?" I echoed Brian's earlier question, disbelieving.

"Because he's sponsoring us and it stands to reason he doesn't want to fund a team of nobodies. We manage this, we won't be nobodies. That, and he really wants us to do a job at that particular time."

There was a few moments of silence as everyone considered the deal. I narrowed my eyes at that last sentence. "So, we're a distraction for something," I voiced.

Lisa shrugged, offering, "Probably."

Brian spoke next, "The risk to reward still isn't great. Five grand each for hitting what may well be the most fortified location in Brockton Bay and an almost guaranteed confrontation with the Wards?"

"Second most fortified location," Lisa countered. "The Protectorate Headquarters is the first."

"Fair point," Brian said, "but my argument stands."

"It'll be more than five grand for each of us, I guarantee you," Lisa told him. "It's the biggest bank in Brockton Bay. It's also the hub of cash distribution for the entire county. Said cash gets transferred in and out by armored cars on a regular schedule-"

"So why don't we hit one of the cars?" Alec asked.

"They have ride-alongs or aerial cover from various members of the Wards and the Protectorate, so we'd be caught in a fight with another cape from minute one. Same problems that Brian's talking about, as far as getting caught up in a fight, difficulty accessing the money before shit goes down, yadda yadda. Anyways, the Brockton Bay Central has cars coming in twice a week, and leaving four times a week. We hit on a Thursday just after noon, and it should be the best day and time for the sheer size of the take. Only way we're getting away with less than thirty thousand is if we fuck up. With what the boss is offering, that's ninety thousand."

Lisa folded her arms and smirked, confident in herself.

Brian let out the air in his lungs, long, loud, and exhausted, "Well, I guess you got me. I'm convinced."

Lisa turned to Alec, with no resistance to be found there. All he said was, "Fuck yeah! Let's rob a bank!"

Bitch didn't need convincing any more than Alec had. She nodded once and then turned her attention to the scarred little dog.

Then everyone looked at me.

I sighed. "So, what's the plan?"

So Lisa outlined a general plan. Brian made suggestions, good ones, and the plan was adjusted accordingly. While that was happening, I checked in on the other universe to ask Lisa some things.

[][][][][]

 **Universe B**

I opened my eyes, and blinked sleepily. I yawned, and looked around.

Rachel was nowhere to be seen, probably in her room. It looked like Alec was trying to teach Brian how to play his shooter game, but the number of times 'YOU DIED' appeared on the screen told me he was failing. Plus, Alec chortling loudly helped clue me in. But the teammate I was looking for was on one of the chairs, reading a book.

"Hey, Lisa," I called out to her from the cot. She looked over at me, and I waved for her to come over. She put down the book while I propped myself up.

"Lisa," I asked when she was next to me, "suppose, theoretically, a boss told a team to do some sort of big job at a certain time. What does that sound like, to you?"

She narrowed her eyes. "A distraction," she answered.

I nodded. "And how would you check for the thing that really happened?" I questioned.

She shrugged. "Check the newspaper for the next day or two," she supplied. She asked a question of her own. "This isn't hypothetical, is it?"

I shook my head. "I'll tell you tomorrow." ' _If this timeline exists tomorrow,'_ I added on mentally, and focused back on the first universe.

[][][][][]

 **Universe A**

The discussion about the plan was still going on when I came back around. At one point, Lisa had gotten her laptop out, and she had sketched out a map of the bank layout. Including where everything was located, which is impressive.

While we worked, Alec got restless and went to make an early lunch. Of the four of us, I got the impression he had the least to contribute, at least strategically, and that he knew it. I wasn't sure if he just didn't have a very tactical mindset or if he just didn't care that much about the planning stage of things. My assumptions led to the latter, as he seemed more willing to go with the flow than Brian or Lisa.

He brought us a plate of pizza pockets along with assorted sodas, and we ate as we wrapped up the plan.

"Alright," Brian said, as Lisa shut her laptop, "I think we have a general idea of what we're going to do. We know how we get in, we know who does what when we're inside, and we know how we want to get out. Keeping in mind that no plan survives contact with the enemy, I think the odds are still pretty good."

"So, the enemy," I said, resisting the urge to frown. I briefly wondered if my own enemies discussed beating me like this. "My only experience fighting with Brockton Bay capes was Lung. I'm going in blind when it comes to everyone else."

Brian nodded, "True. Let's talk strategy and weaknesses. You know who the Wards are?"

I shrugged, offering, "I've researched them. I've seen them on TV. But that doesn't mean I know the important stuff."

"Sure," he said, "So let's go down the list. There's the team leader: Aegis. You'd think he has the standard Alexandria package, flight, super strength, invincibility, but that isn't exactly right. He does fly, but the other two powers work differently than you'd expect. See, he isn't invincible… he just doesn't have any weak points. His entire biology is filled with so many redundancies and reinforcements that you just can't put him down. Throw sand in his eyes and he can still see by sensing the light on his skin. Cut his throat and it doesn't bleed any more than the back of his hand would. The guy's had an arm cut off and it was attached and working fine the next day. Stab him through the heart and another organ takes over the necessary functions."

"How do you stop him?" I asked.

"You don't," Brian supplied, oh so helpfully. "The guy's like a zombie, he gets back up within seconds of you beating him down, keeps coming at you until you're too tired to fight back or you make a mistake."

"And he's super strong?" I asked.

Brian shook his head, and turned to one of our two female teammates. "Lisa, do you want to answer this one?"

She did. "Aegis isn't strong, but he can abuse his body in ways that makes it seem like he is. He can throw punches hard enough that they'd break his hand, mangle his joints and tear his muscles, and his body just takes it. He has no reason to hold back, and he doesn't need to waste any time protecting himself from you. He can also draw on adrenaline…you've heard stories like how little old grandmothers lifted cars off the ground to save their grandkids?"

I nodded. "Yeah, adrenaline and all that," I answered.

"Yup," Lisa confirmed, "and Aegis can do that for hours at a stretch. His body doesn't run out of steam, he doesn't get tired, he doesn't exhaust his reserves of adrenaline. He just keeps going."

"Could I immobilize him?" I asked. "I have cryokinesis."

Brian shrugged. "Maybe. Just don't freeze his gonads off, alright?"

I rolled my eyes. "That was one time!" I protested, and Brian laughed.

Lisa turned to the other female in the room. "Rachel? Sic your dogs on him. A two ton canine or two should keep him out of our hair until we're ready to run."

"I don't need to hold back?" Bitch asked, her eyebrow quirked.

"For once, no. Go nuts," Brian said. "Just, you know, don't kill him. Alec? You're the backup there. Keep an eye on Aegis, see if you can't use your power to throw him off. Buy enough time for a dog to get its jaws on him and he's probably out of action."

"Sure," Alec said.

Brian extended two fingers and tapped the second, "Number two. Clockblocker. Let it be known, I fucking hate people who mess with time."

"He stops time, if I remember right?" I asked, to clarify.

"More specific than that," Brian said. "He can stop time for whatever he touches. The person or object he touches is basically put on 'pause' for anywhere from thirty seconds to ten minutes. Only good thing is that he doesn't control or know how long it's going to last. But if he gets his hands on you, you're out of action. He'll either stand next to you and wait until you start moving, then touch you again, or he'll just tie you up in chains and handcuffs so that when his power wears off, you're already in custody."

"Long story short, he touches you, you're boned," Alec said.

"The upside is that whoever he touches is also untouchable. Can't be hurt, can't be moved. Period. He uses that defensively, and he can do stuff like throw paper or cloth in the air and freeze it in time, making an unbreakable shield. You don't want to run into something that's frozen. A car that drove into the side of a piece of paper that Clockblocker had touched would be cut in two before it budged the paper."

"It won't work on me," I said confidently, and smirked. The gear was warm against my chest. "Time-based powers don't affect me."

Alec laughed. "Man," he said, "I want to see his face when he tries to freeze you!" I nodded, and smiled.

Brian continued, "The third heavy hitter on the Wards is Vista. You know that myth about how the capes that get their powers young are exponentially more powerful? Vista's one of the kids who keeps the myth alive. Clockblocker is sort of a one trick pony, his trick involves screwing with one of the key forces of our universe, but it's just one thing. Vista also messes with physics on a fundamental level, but she's versatile.

"Twelve years old, and she has the power to reshape space. She can stretch a building like taffy, so it's twice as tall, or squeeze two sidewalks closer together so she can cross the street with a single step."

"Her weakness," Lisa added, "Is the Manton effect." She turned her full attention to me, "You know what that is?"

I nodded. We had covered it in Mr. Gladly's class, one of the few times I had paid attention. "It's a limitation on cape powers, so that they don't affect living things. That way, people who can use pyrokinesis don't set themselves on fire, or how people who create forcefields can't bisect you with one."

"Narwhal can," Alec said.

"Why these restrictions exist is a question nearly as big as where we got our powers in the first place. The capes that can get around the Manton effect are among the strongest of us," Lisa supplied.

"And Vista?" I asked.

"Vista can stretch and compress space. She can also do funny things with gravity. Thing is, the Manton effect keeps her from stretching or compressing _you_. It also makes altering an area a lot harder for her if there's more people in that space. So if all of us are in one room, chances are she won't be able to affect the whole room."

" _But_ ," Brian added, wiping a string of cheese from the corner of his lip, "every time we've run into her, she's been faster and overall more powerful with her power, and she's had new tricks. Every second she's on the battlefield is a second things become harder for us. We take her down sooner than later. Aegis, Clockblocker, Vista. Those are the ones we're most likely to run into, and whoever else winds up coming, they're the ones we have to deal with, or we're fucked."

I frowned and looked into my hand, summoning a glowing ball of ectoplasm. The conversation stopped as I held it up. "This is the material of my most basic attacks," I began to explain. "The components of it are inorganic, but can still act as a living object. What would happen if she tried to manipulate this?"

Lisa shrugged. "We'll see."

"Let's quickly go through the rest. Kid Win?" Brian asked

"Tinker," Lisa said, "Flying skateboard, laser pistols, high tech visor are staples for him. Expect something new, depending on what he's come up in his workshop. He's mobile but not that threatening."

"Triumph?"

"He turned eighteen and graduated to the Protectorate. Don't have to worry about him."

"Gallant."

"Glory Girl's on and off boyfriend, he pretends to be a Tinker in the same vein as Kid Win, but I think he just runs around in secondhand armor with a fresh paint job. His thing is these blasts of light. Getting hit by one feels like a punch in the gut, but the blasts also mess with your feelings. Make you sad, make you scared, ashamed, giddy, whatever. Not that bad unless you get hit by a bunch in a row. Don't."

I shook my head. "Won't matter," I said. "I can feed off of emotion. I'll only get stronger."

Brian looked at me, and raised an eyebrow. "You can feed off of emotion?" he questioned. "You never said that before."

I shrugged, and looked down. "I don't like using it. It feels invasive to me, gaining power from other people's emotions, but I can't exactly turn it off. Positive emotions are meh, but negative emotions like fear work best."

Alec looked at me with a look that told me he made the connection. "So," he said, "in a bank full of hostages who are scared for their lives…"

I nodded. "A big ol' battery to me."

"That just leaves Shadow Stalker. Bloodthirsty bitch," Brian scowled.

Alec explained to me, "She's got it in her head that Brian is her nemesis. You know, her number one enemy, her dark opposite. She's been going after him every chance she gets."

"I understand," I said. "I have my own nemesis." I wonder what Vlad was doing, now that he didn't have a city to run.

Alec looked like he wanted to press for details, but Lisa carried on. "She was a solo hero," Lisa explained. "Vigilante of the night, until she went too far and nearly killed someone, nailing him to a wall with one of her crossbows. The local heroes were called in, she got arrested, and made some sort of deal. Now she's a probationary member of the Wards, with the condition that she uses tranquilizer bolts and nonlethal ammo for her crossbow."

"Which she isn't," Brian growled, "At least, not when she comes after me. That arrow she shot through my side had a fucking arrowhead on it." I winced in sympathy. I knew what it felt like to be hunted. Fucking Skulker.

Lisa shook her head, "Her powers and Brian's sort of have a weird interaction with one another. Shadow Stalker can sort of transform. She becomes extremely lightweight, can pass through glass and thin walls and she's nearly invisible. Only thing is, while she and the stuff she carries are all wispy in her transformed state, the stuff she shoots with her crossbow only stays that way for a half second. Then the effect wears off and it's a regular arrow flying towards you. So she can leap between rooftops, almost impossible to see, hard to even touch, and all the while she's shooting very real arrows at you."

"So what do you do?" I asked.

"Her power doesn't work well while she's inside Brian's darkness, for whatever reason. She isn't as fast or agile, he can see her better, and she can't see him in the darkness," Tattletale told me, "So it becomes something of a very intense game of tag, with one very fast person that's essentially blind and deaf but carrying lethal weapons, while Brian, the other, is trying to take her out without getting shot."

"Let's avoid that," Brian said, "It's too time consuming and she may want to use that kind of scenario to delay us. Just don't get shot, and if you see her or see the opportunity, inform the team and do your best to take her down without losing sight of a priority target."

"I wonder if I could hit her," I wondered aloud. "I've been able to hit other intangible things when I'm intangible."

"She's not intangible," Lisa said. "She changes into her Breaker state, which makes her be able to pass through things at an atomic level. As opposed to intangibility, which can pass through things regardless, she passes through the incredibly small gaps between atoms."

"Oh," I said.

"So unless there's anything else, I think we just planned a bank robbery before noon," Lisa said with a grin. I looked at the digital clock displayed under the TV. Sure enough, it was half past eleven. I cracked my knuckles.

I was ready for it.

[][][][][]

 **[A/N]: Sorry the usual update didn't come Wednesday! Summer's here, and my schedule just gets more filled up! Still updating, but won't be as fast as usual. I'll still try my best to get at least two chapters out per week!**

 **~Slenderbrine**


	17. Restless 3-4

**Restless 3.4**

The day after we had planned the bank robbery was a bit of a calm, if slightly tense, day. In the universe I had dubbed "Universe A", I had spent the day enjoying my time with the Undersiders, conversing and doing fun stuff. I had attempted to start a conversation with Rachel, but she just blew me off. Alec had challenged me into playing a death match in DOOM, not knowing I played it (I completely crushed him, without cheating, too). I sparred with Brian, and played a few rounds of chess with Lisa. Turns out, she enjoys the game a lot more when she doesn't know every single move her opponent is about to make.

Despite all of the cheeriness, the bank job loomed over our heads, like a bad omen. I could tell everyone was thinking about it, despite the good mood everyone was projecting (sans Bitch).

"Universe B" was a slightly different story. I spent the same amount of time not going to school as I did in the first universe, but instead of having fun with the Undersiders, I was meditating/sleeping in my room, focusing on all of my energy being in Universe A. I felt like I was wearing a smaller version of the Ecto-Skeleton.

Finally, the day of the bank job rolled around. In Universe B, I stayed home as usual, meditating in deep focus. In Universe A, however, I ate a quick breakfast, while warning Jazz to stay away from Central Bank today. She looked at me suspiciously, but didn't comment on it. After a short trip to the Boardwalk, I was picked up by Lisa in a van, and we made our way to the bank.

"So how has no one exposed you yet?" Lisa asked. We were currently sitting in rush hour traffic, and the roads were barely moving. My current partner was trying to make small talk.

"What do you mean?" I responded, with a question of my own.

"I mean," Lisa explained, "how have you not been exposed? Your secret identity revealed?"

"Oh," I said, "that. Basically, when I shift forms, it changes the structure of my face and body enough that I only match, at most, 80% with certain people throughout the world, including my real self. As well, my Agloolik form doesn't leave fingerprints, and by DNA is literally dead."

Lisa looked at me and blinked. "Wow," she said. "That's really useful."

I nodded, "Yup." Traffic picked up again, and we began moving at a running man's pace. "So, what made you choose to be a villain?" I asked, innocently enough.

Wrong question. She winced, making a slightly pained face, but it vanished as quickly as it appeared; not to say I didn't notice it at all. "It beat the other choice," she said cryptically. She turned to me, "You?"

I shrugged. "Played the hero gig for two years," I offered. "I moved and decided to see what the other team was like."

"You were a hero before?" Lisa asked, curious. I could tell she was digging for information. For herself? Or possibly their mysterious boss?

"Yeah, but under a different name," I said. "You won't be able to find me."

She smirked, a clear signal of accepting my challenge. Great, good for her. I'd love to see her try and hack the PCT's website. "Kind of like Regent," Lisa said, to my surprise, "except he was a villain before joining us."

"Really?" I said, surprised.

"Yeah," she confirmed. "He used to be called Hijack."

She stopped for a second to lean back in her chair. "Look out the window," she suggested. I obeyed, gazing behind the glass. What I saw was both impressive and imposing; It was a stone fixture six stories tall, with crenelations on the roof and balconies, stone gargoyles at the corners and iron grilles on the entryway had wide stone stairs like a courthouse, with statues of rearing horses with wild manes on either side. The name of the institution was etched into the stone above the doors. The Brockton Bay Central Bank. A virtual castle.

"In an hour, we're going to be far away from here, several tens of thousands of dollars richer," I stated, summarizing our situation.

"Hell yes," Tattletale agreed, slipped on her mask.

Lisa pulled the van around to circle the block, then pulled into an employee parking lot behind a restaurant. I watched the rearview mirror before Brian pulled a second van into the alley that led into the lot. He parked his van halfway down the alley, blocking anyone else from coming through. I hopped out of the van into the now drizzling weather.

"Let's rob us a bank!" I said excitedly, rubbing my hands together. Lisa grinned.

[][][][][]

Grue was already out of his vehicle and halfway to us by the time Tattletale and I had shut the doors of the van. He was using his power at a low degree over the entirety of his body. The darkness soaked into and through the porous leather of his costume, making him look like a living shadow, reminding me of Johnny 13's shadow, in a not-trying-to-kill-me way. Brian had showed me how the visor had vents at the edges, to direct the effect of his power around the sides and top of his head, so it wouldn't obscure the face. It wasn't that he couldn't see through the effects of his own power – he could. He'd explained that the vents were there to create an effect where you could see glimpses of a black-painted skull floating in the vaguely human shaped form of even darker black. An intimidation tactic, he told me.

"Let's move fast." His voice echoed, reverberated, with a hollowness to the sound, like something alien and far away. He was using his power to play with the sound, saying, "Tattletale, see to the door. 'Gloo, time to split."

I nodded, and closed me eyes. After about ten seconds, I reopened them, aware of the two new clones on my left and right, Alpha and Beta, respectively. Both clones had the basic abilities of a ghost: flight, intangibility, and invisibility; as well as enough ectoplasm to shoot very weak ectoplasmic blasts. The entities around me sending me spacial information were just little more than human-shaped ectopuses.

"That's really creepy, how you do that," Regent commented. All three of me gave him a flat stare, and he chuckled.

We joined Tattletale and Bitch at the door. The first named female had already cracked the door, and it was now hanging wide open. Bitch was petting her dogs, ready to transform them in a moment's notice.

'I really have to introduce her to Cujo,' I thought.

Grue nodded and Bitch's dogs began to grow. Their furs ripped at the seams, exposing muscle and bone, to the point where they were the size of small horses. Muscle and bone showed beneath, and the arrangement of aforementioned anatomies wasn't exactly normal. The change was slow enough that you couldn't see it if you were looking for it, but if you looked away and looked back a moment later, you could tell they were bigger, that bone at the shoulder was longer, the eyes were deeper set, and so on. Spikes, spurs and an exoskeleton of bone growths had appeared to fill or cover gaps and grow in at places where the bone was already close to the skin.

Grue flicked his hand forward, Bitch's dogs taking point, and my clones & I trailing the group. We began our prowl through the back hallways of the bank. The cleanly hallways were quickly dirtied by the stomping and pacing of the monstrous dogs. I sent my Beta clone to knock out the security guard, to try put some delay on the PRT's arrival. My clone managed to take out the security, but the clone informed me the call had already been made.

"PRT's been called," I alerted my teammates. "We have five to ten minutes to get this show on the road."

They nodded, and hurried up the pace. Grue flooded the rooms we passed with darkness, with either one of Bitch's hellhounds or Regent finding a person inside. We passed over a dozen offices. Only scouring three or four employees. One pink-shirted accountant attempted to cry for help, but all that came out were chokes and wheezes. As the man fell on one knee, I saw Regent's head angled towards the man.

We eventually reached the front lobby of the bank, and Bitch's dogs charged into the room. They were hellish creatures, snapping and shaking themselves in a spray of chunks of flesh, fur, and blood as they abruptly grew another foot taller at the shoulder. My clones and I counted exactly thirty-seven civilians and six employees before Tattletale cut the lights. Grue used his power, and the room was plunged into darkness, the volume of the screams and wails dropping to utter silence in a matter of seconds. We stood in the entryway to the lobby, and there was only nothingness where the bank lobby had been.

My clones floated into position, hovering above us and the crowd, charges at the ready. "Drop it," I said.

Grue swept his arms forward, and the darkness parted like the Red Sea. We moved into the room as a group. Employees we picked up collapsed to the ground as we walked; Regent's work. Some of Grue's darkness clung to the surfaces of the doors and the windows, to hide ourselves, but the room was otherwise clear in a matter of moments, lit only by the florescent lights. Everyone except for us was lying on the floor, crouched behind a desk, or huddled in the corners. Two of Bitch's dogs were standing in front of the main entrance, while the smallest ‒ Angelica, I believe ‒ was standing near the vault. All three of the dogs were the size of cars, by now.

"Hello," I introduced. I let the smallest amount of the Ghostly Wail trickle into my voice, letting it reverberate with power throughout the bank lobby. "We are the Undersiders. We are here to rob this bank. We will only be here for fifteen minutes, so please stay cooperative. This is not a TV show; it is not a movie; it is not a video game. If you are thinking about being a hero, don't.

"If you are thinking about being a hero," I continued, "don't." I snapped my fingers and both my clones threw ecto blasts near the hostages. They all flinched as the blasts struck the ground, and steam rose from the ground. "My clones will attack you and disable you."

Forty-three people. I saw a full grown man with a tear rolling down his cheek. A teenager with freckles and brown curls was glaring at me with raw loathing in her eyes. At one of the counters, a matronly bank employee was shaking like a leaf.

I breathed deeply through my nose, doing my absolute best to control the adrenaline, the raw _power_ , pumping through my veins. But, in contrast, it worried me greatly.

Because it is always far easier to become addicted than it is to become cleansed.

[][][][][]

 **[A/N]: Oh my god! Sorry for the long wait, coupled with the short chapter! I have so many ideas rushing through my head, plus the fact that my summer schedule is practically as busy as my school one was. I have no excuses, only apologies! So sorry! :(**

 **In other news...nearly 100 favorites/follow!? You guys like my story that much!? Thank you! :D This arc's "Thank You" segment at the end of the Wards interlude is going to be, like, over forty people long. Jeez.**

 **Next chapter SHOULD be out before Monday! Tell me if you find any grammar mistakes!**

 **~Slenderbrine.**


	18. Restless 3-5

**Restless 3.5**

"Any trouble so far?" Grue asked.

Tattletale shook her head. "Everything's going according to plan," she answered.

We had gone over the plan so much until I could repeat it blindfolded, drugged, and half-conscious, should the need arise. I was with Grue, Bitch, one of her monsters, and Tattletale at the bank vault. The Alpha clone, Regent, and the smallest dog were guarding the front door, to ward off any trouble. The other dog and the Beta clone were watching over the hostages.

Tattletale was spinning the handle of the vault door left and right, using her power to determine how much spinning was enough, and when to stop it. I could've gone intangible to go through it, and bring the others with me, but I didn't want to use any power, just in case of confrontation. I took only a few minutes before I heard something click inside the door.

Thanks to my strength, it only took Grue and me to open the vault door (you know: macho men, or whatever). Tattletale sauntered off to where the Central Bank's manager's station was...stationed. She sat herself down at the computer, putting her feet up on the corner of the desk like a juvenile in detention, and began typing away. From there, she could keep an eye on the media, watch the surveillance cameras and remotely control the door locks and alarm systems. All with the right passwords, but I had the _distinct_ feeling that wouldn't be much of a problem for her.

Grue, Bitch and I started strapping a canvas harness onto the one dog that wasn't either standing at the front doors, or watching over the hostages. I think this one had been called Brutus, by Bitch. He was the biggest, with the meatiest body, and he had a shorter snout. I'm pretty sure he'd been the Rottweiler, before. I had to stay on the opposite side of the vault from him, lest I make the giant, two-ton monster dog _flinch_.

My power was such bullshit at times. Well, most of the time, really.

With the harness securely fastened, we headed into the vault, Brutus standing at the door. The vault was stainless steel from top to bottom with neatly banded bundles of bills organized into stacks. The stacks of money were organized by the size of the bill, all neatly set up against the wall; ones on the far left, while the dollars with as many zeroes as I had fingers on the far right. On the wall opposite the stacks were drawers like an elaborate filing cabinet. They were...pretty much just what it sounded like. The bank kept copies of all important documents for the local branches here, in a fireproof vault, in case of disaster. What they didn't plan for, was the disaster to strike _within_ the vault. The far end of the vault had another door, opening into an elevator that went down to the garage basement, where the armored trucks could be loaded. It was a shame it wasn't an option for an escape route. The door, the elevator and the garage itself were all firmly locked outside of specific times and days. However, I'm not sure whether it was viable to begin with; I don't think Brutus would've been able to fit in the elevator.

Bitch dumped an armload of bags onto the ground, and she and Grue got on their knees on either side of the pile and began stuffing one of the bags with cash, each. She took off her mask to see what she was doing better. I, on the other hand, began cracking open the filing drawers with my bare hands, the squealing noise of metal creaking and bending filling the vault's chamber.

As Bitch filled her first bag, she buckled it closed, cinched the accompanying strap tight around it, and slid it across the slick metal floor towards Brutus. I turned away from the drawers to grab the bag, haul it up and attach it to the dog's harness, doing it is gently as I could so the dog wouldn't turn tail (pun!).

It was a staggering amount of money. Grue and Bitch were working together to fill up their bags as quick as each other, almost as if racing. I caught a quick glimpse of them grabbing money; I saw hundreds of dollars in cash, even thousands, tens of thousands, all stuffed into bags. We were getting rich from this.

Grue filled his second bag and slid it towards the door. I grunted as I heaved it up to the opposite side of the first bag and clipped it in place. While they filled their third and fourth bags, I clipped on an extra bag – a bag filled with the contents of the first drawer he had opened. According to Lisa's briefing, the drawers would hold deeds, liens, insurance forms, mortgages and loan information. Apparently our employer was willing to buy these from us. I'd speculated about why – the most obvious possibility was that he could ransom them back to the bank. More intriguing was the thought that he wanted the information itself for his own purposes. Or, on a similar note, maybe there was something specific that would be found in the midst of the paperwork, and he was willing to buy it all if it meant keeping his true intentions unclear. Honestly, I just grabbed anything that had signatures and/or big numbers on it; anything that checked out (oh, I couldn't wait for the trash talk and puns that came with my usual fights).

"I'm going to be sore tomorrow," I moaned, as I cracked my knuckles after strapping the bag of papers into place, "and we haven't even been in a fight yet."

"Sore and rich," Bitch spoke. I glanced at her and saw her grinning, and grinned as well. I supposed she was right. I caught the last bag as Grue slid it across the floor. I hooked it into the harness.

"We can't put anymore on here without it being a problem," I decided. I checked the other bags, and tested the weight.

"The weight is even?" Bitch asked.

"Close as we can get."

Bitch stood and crossed the length of the vault to where her creature waited, as I backed away from the tense creature. She rubbed her hand on Brutus' snout like you might see a horse owner do, except Brutus most definitely wasn't a horse. The dog visibly calmed as she rubbed her hand on exposed muscle, calcified tatters of flesh, and bone hooks that jutted out of gaps and knots in the muscle. She managed to look almost affectionate as she did it.

"Go, baby. Go," she commanded, pointing to the front door. Brutus obediently loped off to the front of the bank and sat, his prehensile tail absently coiling around the door handle.

"Hey!" Bitch called out, then whistled twice, alternating between short and long. The smallest of the dogs, who was only recognizable now by her missing eye, bounded towards us in her excitement. Some of the hostages screamed in alarm at the sudden movement.

"Oi!" I shouted out loud. I fired off a shot into the ceiling. "Calm down!"

Regent turned to Grue. "How much mula did we make?" he asked. "Or, take, rather."

Tattletale answered for him, from where she stood at the door to the vault, "Forty-six thousand, eight hundred. It looks like that's as much as we're going to get. The white hats are here, and it's not looking good."

We were out of the vault in a flash, and we joined Regent at the front doors, peering through the gaps in the wall of darkness. "Tattletale," Regent voiced, "you're a real genius, but sometimes you seem to be able to be a dumbass."

Regent wasn't opposition was lined up on the sidewalk across the street, the colors of their costumes bright in the midst of the gloom of the rain and the gray of the city. Aegis, tan skinned, was wearing a rust red costume with a matching helmet, both with silver-white trim and a shield emblem. He was like a cockroach, a bug that would keep on going no matter what.

A dozen or so feet to his right was Vista, wearing a costume with a skirt, all covered in wavy, swooping lines that alternated between white and forest green. She had some body armor worked into her costume design. Her breastplate was molded to give the illusion of a chest, but that didn't do anything to conceal the fact that she was still young enough that I could have kicked her ass in a straight up fistfight. She reminded me of Danielle: young, but still able to kick some ass.

Clockblocker stood to Aegis' left. He wore a white costume, skintight, with interlocking panels of glossy white body armor placed wherever they could give him protection without inhibiting his movements. I couldn't see it through the rain, but I knew from TV that the armor had images of clocks on it in dark gray. Some of the images on the armor were animated so they drifted across the surface, while others were fixed in place with hands ticking. His helmet was faceless, just a smooth expanse of white, like Amorpho's real form.

"I'm going to have to take Regent's side on this one," Grue conceded. "Because fuck."

The three weren't alone. Kid Win was floating in the air on the left side of Clockblocker. His brown hair was damp in the rain, and had a red visor and body armor in red and gold that reminded me of an Earth Aleph comic, Iron Man. His feet were firmly planted on his flying skateboard, which had a ruby glow radiating from the bottom. His hands were gripping matching guns. Laser pistols, or something in that vein. Kid Win was saying something to Gallant, who was standing a ways to his left. Gallant was an older teenager in a gunmetal and silver costume that blended the appearance of a pulp science fiction hero with a medieval knight.

On the opposite end of the line was someone the Undersiders never mentioned. He was big in a different way than Grue was big; the kind of bulk that made you think powers were at work. His muscle laden arms seemed bigger around than my head, and I thought he could probably crush cans between his pecs. His costume was little more than dark blue or black spandex with a diamond print. His mask was full-face, except for the eyes, and had a crystal attached to the forehead. He was the only person standing there who didn't have body armor. And with those muscles, I'm pretty sure he didn't need it.

"Um, I think I must've missed him in the mission briefing," I voiced my concerns. "Who's Captain Thunderthighs over there?"

"Browbeat," Tattletale sighed, "He's a point blank telekinetic, which means that he can move things with his mind, but only if they're within an inch or so of his skin. He can use it to throw punches that hit like freight trains, or shield himself from incoming attacks. He's also packing personal biokinesis, which means he's got a kind of ability to manipulate his own body. He can heal just by concentrating on an injury, and he's used it to bulk up. He might be capable of doing more on the fly, depending on how much he's trained since we saw him last. He's been a solo hero in Brockton Bay for a little while."

"What the fuck is he doing here?" I asked.

"We crossed paths with him once, Regent and Bitch beat him. Either he's here for revenge or he's joined the Wards very, very recently. My power's suggesting it's the latter."

"That's is the kind of thing you're supposed to inform us on well in advance," Grue hissed at her, "and there's not supposed to be six of them."

"There's seven," Tattletale said, wincing as Grue slammed his fist against the wood of the door. "There's someone on the roof. I'm not sure who, but I don't think it's Shadow Stalker. Might be a member of the Protectorate."

"There's not supposed to be six or seven!" Grue roared in his unearthly voice "There's supposed to be three, four at most!"

"If we get out of this in one piece," Grue spoke, his tone low and menacing, "We're going to have a long conversation."

I banged my forehead against the window. Pain was always a nice motivator. "Educated guess. It would have been nice if you had said it was an educated guess, way back when we were planning this."

Of our group, Bitch seemed the least daunted. "I can take them. Just let me go all out."

"We're not going to fucking risk killing anyone," Grue told her. "We're not maiming anyone, either. The plan stands. We have the money, we run for it."

Tattletale shook her head, "That's what they want. Why do you think they're lined up like that? We bolt with the money from any of the exits, the person on the roof tackles us, incapacitates us or keeps us busy while the rest close in. Look at how they're sort of spaced out. Just far enough apart that if we try to go between them, one of them can probably close in fast enough to nab us before we get away."

"With my power-" Grue started.

"They still outnumber us. There's at least five ways they could take one of us down while we're running, even if they were going in blind… and Vista's in the equation. Figure any distance we need to cover is going to be much farther than it looks, and things get ugly. It wouldn't be a problem if there weren't so many of them."

"We're toast," Regent groaned.

"Them and what toaster?" I joked. That caused Regent to groan even more.

"We can't just stay here," Grue said, "Sure, they're getting cold and wet, but our odds aren't much better if we force them to come in here after us, and if we wait too long, the Protectorate might show, too."

"We have hostages," Bitch said, "If they come in here, we take out one of the hostages." Somewhere behind us, someone moaned, long and loud. I think they'd heard her.

I sighed, and took a deep breath. I had an idea. A single, absolutely bullshit crazy idea.

"No," I voiced aloud, and my team turned towards me. "You guys will all run away. Get out of here with the money, as fast as possible."

"But the person on the‒" Grue started.

"He's taking care of it," Tattletale said. I nodded, and turned towards the window. I saw Glory Girl flying towards her on and off boyfriend, Gallant, not looking too happy. "He threatened the hostages if she didn't join up with the Wards."

"Fine, but if we run, what are you going to do?" Grue said.

"Me?" I asked. I gave them a grin, and cracked my knuckles.

"If a single bad guy beats up a hero team while his villain buddies scramble away," I said, "that usually looks pretty bad."

My lips turned upwards in a shark's grin, to match Tattletale's vulpine grin.

[][][][][]

 **[A/N]: I had a whole plan for this that just went out the window. FUCK IT, WE'RE GOING WITH PLAN B: OPERATION OVER-KILL!**

 **~Slenderbrine**


	19. Restless 3-6

**Restless 3.6**

I cracked my neck as Tattletale was the last to get saddled up on Bitch's dogs. "You sure about this?" she asked. "We have better odds if we fight together."

"Yeah, but they're reputation goes down the drain when I pull this off," I countered.

"When, not if?" Tattletale picked up, amused. "My, aren't you confident."

"Small talk later," Grue butted in, "if you really want to pull this off." 

I nodded, and gave the Undersiders a cheeky salute. Grue returned it with a nod, and the dogs lunged forward from the bank hall's front doors, darkness covering them. I strolled out after the dogs, towards the Wards. As I left the fading void of darkness, I noticed Vista moving towards the direction my teammates were running off in. Offhandedly, I shot off a stray ecto blast between the two parties. Vista noticed it ahead of time, and retreated from the blast. It looked as if she stepped through an invisible doorway; one moment she was standing off some yards to Aegis' left, the next moment she was practically touching shoulders with the apprentice hero.

"Hey there!" I called out to the Wards. They took various stances, preparing for a fight. "Glad you could make it!"

The Wards looked at each other, unsure of my welcome greeting. "Yeah, well, we normally take notice when someone robs a bank," Clockblocker remarked. Kid Win shot him a look, and the time-themed superhero shut up.

"Yeah, sorry about that," I faux-apologized. "We were running a bit short on cash, and we happened to be in the area, so~..."

"Then you could use an ATM like a normal person," Browbeat remarked. I never heard the point-blank telekinetic speak; however, I've also never heard of him. The Brute's voice was smooth like honey, but in the thrum of a deep baritone.

"Sure, but I'm not normal, now am I?" I asked, with a raised eyebrow. I focused my attention on Browbeat, pretending not to notice the Wards circling me. Cute.

"Of course not," Glory Girl remarked. I turned my attention to the New Wave teen. "You're not normal; you're evil."

"Oi!" I yelled, making the heroes around me flinch. "I may be a bad guy, but that doesn't make me a _bad_ guy, you know?"

She snorted, raising her fists. "If it helps you sleep better at night," she said.

I smirked. "That's some rather black-and-white thinking you got there," I noted, cracking my knuckles. "I think I'm gonna have to knock some sense into you."

That got Glory Girl to pull on a full-on smirk. "Just try it," she challenge, floating up to Aegis' and Kid Win's height.

I took note of the people around me. In order from in front of me, clockwise: Glory Girl, Clockblocker, Vista, Aegis, Kid Win, Gallant, and Browbeat. I turned my head, taking it my new opponents.

"Let's do this," I stated, cracking my neck. I crouched down low, and pushed backwards. I brought my right fist back and twisted my entire body to meet Aegis. I threw my punch at the skin-covered Ward, who barely twisted out of the way in time, to the point where I felt the smooth fabric of his suit lightly scrape against my hand. I ducked and rolled, avoiding lasers that Kid WIn's laser pistols shot out. I fell on my back as Browbeat jumped at me, reaching for me with his fists. I used my feet to catch his chest, and used my super strength to kick him away. I reached my hands behind my head, and did that really cool acrobatic thing to push myself to my feet. I ducked my head, allowing a small handful of empathetic blasts to fly over my head. I turned to my original target, and took a step towards him. I cocked my hand back, ready to punch him. But before I could let loose, he shot forwards and tapped my arm.

I froze.

'Aegis' walked around me, letting out a breath. "Well, that was anti-climatic," he said.

"Bad guys bites the dust," Glory Girl remarked. 'Clockblocker' turned to Vista. "You think you can catch us up to Undersiders?"

Vista nodded, and then gestured towards me, with her head. "What about the villain?"

'Aegis' waved a carefree hand in my direction, not even bothering to give me the time of day. "Grandpa hair, over there? Please," he scoffed, "he's toast."

While everyone had their attention on the insulting hero (II resembled those remarks!), I carefully took a fighting stance, and turned to them. Taking a silent deep breath, I called out a response.

"You and what toaster?"

The junior heroes' heads turned so fast, I was afraid they might get whiplash. Before any of them could call something out, I raised my left fist and fired off an ecto blast at Vista. The green bolt of ectoplasm strucker in the gut, knocking the small girl over. She tried to stand up again, but ultimately went limp.

"Vista!" 'Clockblocker', who I knew (thanks to Tattletale) was really Aegis in his teammate's costume. The disguised Alexandria package turned his head back to me, fists clenched in anger.

I smirked, gesturing for him for him to come at me with my hand. He yelled a indiscernible battlecry before flying straight at me. I rolled out of the way as he barrelled by me, taking to the flight with him. In a second, he was on me, throwing punches I dodged, and occasionally phased through, with ease. None of his teammates dared to intervene, lest they accidentally hit their leader.

"All aboard the pain train," I teased, cocking my head to avoid another superpowered punch. "You can ride in first class if you have your Vista, but it appears you seem to be lacking one." I took his repeated angry yell as a sign of him getting the pun.

"This is great and all," I said after a while, "but I'm on a time table. Do me a favor, and go to sleep, will ya'?"

He paused for only a second, confused. That second was all I needed. I grabbed the Alexandria package by the shoulders and phased him into the asphalt beneath us. When turning tangible in a material after previously being intangible, you don't completely delete the atoms that were there, nor do the atoms become fused with you. Instead, the atoms around you in the material become densely packed with whatever material the victim is stuck in. With this method, an object stuck in talc was essentially stuck in a prison as strong as bricks.

Getting stuck in asphalt? Well, let's just say Aegis' Brute rating wasn't high enough.

"Go long!" I called out playfully, brutally punting Aegis' head. It didn't disconnect, like a normal zombie, but did bend all the way back and make a sickening crack! on the asphalt behind him. I watched in interest as the bleeding ceased to flow in a matter of seconds. Not even my healing factor was that good.

"You fucker!" I looked up, scolding myself internally for letting myself get distracted; the Wards could of gotten a lucky shot at me. Thankfully, they were distracted by my 'playing around'. "You're a sick fuck that deserves to rot in jail!" Glory Girl continued to spout.

I shrugged, in a harmless gesture. "Hey, I have to make sure my opponents don't get up while I'm fighting. Maybe if you took a lesson from me, more of your criminals would be in jail," I offered. What I received was a laser blast to the arm, courtesy of Kid Win.

"Ass," I joked, sucking wind between my teeth. I let a bit of cryokinesis flow over the still-burning wound, making a makeshift ice bandage. I held in a wince as subzero ice met the unwantedly cauterized wound. I used some fancy footwork, dodging more laser blasts from Kid Win, taking note of the situation.

Aegis and Vista were officially out of action. Clockblocker had realized he would be of no use here, and took to taking care of Vista. I honestly hoped I hadn't hurt her too badly, but would not admit that aloud. Gallant and Glory Girl were whispering behind Kid Win, sneaking glances at me. At first, I was worried what they were planning.

"Kid, get back!" Gallant yelled, as Glory Girl rushed towards me.

Then I realized I had no time to worry.

I stumbled backwards, but before I could get back, Glory Girl got up and close and personal with me. She opened her arms and squeezed me tight, spinning around so that my back was facing Gallant. And in one fell swoop, she turned her fearful aura on while Gallant unloaded a slew of empathetic blasts at me.

My eyes widened at the overload of information, the sheer amount of emotion running through me. I saw black spots as I started to black o‒

[][][][][]

Blackness.

Beginnings.

Happy.

Sad.

Emotion.

 _Fear._

 _Anger._

 _Betrayal._

 _ **Strength.**_

 _ **Power.**_

 _ **FIGHT!**_

[][][][][]

My eyes shot open as I caught the last of a conversation being spoken.

"...l tough cook‒ oh, shit, he's waking up!" Kid Win called out.

I took in my surroundings. My downed enemies were still in their correct positions. The Clockwork-like human was standing off to the side, next to one of two parked vans. The scrapworker was floating on his hoverboard, tense. The emotion manipulators, the one who tried to defeat _me_ , were standing back, with PRT personnel. A few civilians were around, recording the incident on their cellphones.

I tried to move, but realized I was standing erect encased in foam. No matter. I ignored the shocked gasps as I escaped my cage, like the beast that could not be tamed. I turned my attention to the two enemies that tried there best to defeat me, but failed. As they should.

I walked forward with even steps, a smile on my face that surely did not meet my eye. I ignored the rustling of men and women unholstering their weapons. When the inventor tried to get in my way, I let off a light beam, barely larger in circumference that of a quarter. Even such, when struck with it, the metal-suited teenager flew backwards, like a strict master yanks the leash of a dog. I paid him no attention, as he smashed through a building wall. I paid only attention to the two morsels in front of me.

"Just stay down, you crazy fuck!" Glory Girl yelled, vulgar language spewing from her mouth. She flew directly at me with a fairly well-aimed punch. Under normal circumstances, it might have hit me. However, these were _not_ normal circumstances.

I turned only my head intangible, letting the punch pass through me. Grabbing the fabric around the abdominal area, I pulled her closer to me, increasing her velocity, while driving a powerful punch into her abdomen as well. A split millisecond later, I let out a blast at a quarter power. I was surprised when the heroine spat blood through my head, and went flying backwards. I glanced from the fallen teen, to my hand, and then back to her. _'It appears she is not as invincible as she claims,'_ I thought, in vicious glee.

"GLORY GIRL!"

I turned my attention back to the other metal-clad boy, Gallant, who was staring at the fallen and unconscious form of my first opponent. A voice in the back of my head told me that the two were an on-and-off couple, but I waved it away, filing it as useless information. I hovered over the boy, who had fallen to his knees, staring at the fallen form of his girlfriend(?). I smirked, powering up a half-full charge, and aiming at my prey, before seeing myself in the reflection of a store window.

It wasn't the sight of scared civilians that made me stop. Nor was it the sight of recorder cams, with little red blinking lights. No, what made my actions cease was the sight of the demon in the window. I cocked my head, and it parroted my movements, I put my hand down, and it turned to face me as well, following suit. I glanced at its hair, white flames licking the afternoon sky. The demon's eyes widened as I realized what had happened. _I_ widened my _blood red_ eyes.

"Nonononono!" I shouted at the sky, hyperventilating. The rest of the world stared at me in curiosity as I grabbed my hair in my hands and shouted an inarticulate scream at the sky, before turning invisible, and flying off.

Flying away from my sins.

[][][][][]

 **[A/N]: *Ahem*.**

 **FFFFFFFFFUCK ME! That took way too long, and I'm sorry. I re-wrote this chapter this chapter over five times, checking myself every single time! Nearly every time I was writing 'Clockblocker', I accidentally wrote 'Clockwork'! I also had a hellish time with prepositions, because fuck me. Also, my summer schedule is even crazier than my school schedule, so expect sporadic frequents all summer long! Yay!**

 **I also might be getting a beta: Mysterymuffin2. I'll have him beta the next chapter because this little chapter needs to get out now! It did NOT want to be written. Also, for the long wait, there will be TWO interludes! Yay!**

 **Quick note before I sign off: I normally do a 'Thanks' to people who fav/follow per arc. Over 130 people have either favorited, followed, or both** _ **Deceased**_ **so far. That's gonna add to the word counter. Have a good day/night/time!**

 **~Slenderbrine**


	20. Restless 3-X-1

**Restless 3.X.1**

 **Welcome to the Parahuman Online Message Boards**

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 **Topic: New cape in Brockton Bay?**

 **In: Boards ➨ North America ➨ USA ➨ New England ➨ Brockton Bay**

 **Bagrat (The Guy in the Know) (Veteran Member) (Cape Geek)**

 _Posted on April 11, 2011_

So have you guys heard of this new cape? His name is Agloolik, apparently. Here's a link to him kicking Lung's ass. [LINK]

So, the name Agloolik comes from Inuit folklore. They were spirits that lived beneath the ice that gave fishermen fish. Judging by this, we at least know that Agloolik probably has some type of cryokinesis, which is confirmed by the video.

So, who's got the deets?

 **(Showing page 46 of 47)**

➤ **Odoroku (Part-Time Troll)**

 _Posted April 12, 2011_

All I'm saying is that **[post edited for content]**

➤ **Tin_Moderator (Moderator)**

 _Posted April 12, 2011_

I already gave you three warnings. Enjoy your temporary ban, **Odoroku**.

➤ **Bagrat (The Guy in the Know) (Veteran Member) (Cape Groupie) (Original Poster)**

 _April 13, 2011_

So, back on topic, what do we have for the guy? Brute 6, Shaker 4, Stranger/Trump 2, Blaster 8? That good?

➤ **Tryhard1013**

 _April 13, 2011_

Why Stranger/Trump 2? I'm late to the party and too lazy to scroll back through the pages.

➤ **TrossFalls**

 _April 13, 2011_

 **Tryhard1013** \- Because we're not sure how he survived he survived being incinerated. **Bagrat** suspects being immunity to fire (Trump), but **XxVoid_CowboyxX** suspects intangibility. So, we're split at the moment.

➤ **Tryhard1013**

 _April 13, 2011_

 **TrossFalls** \- Thanks!

➤ **Bagrat (The Guy in the Know) (Veteran Member) (Cape Groupie) (Original Poster)**

 _April 14, 2011_

HOLD UP! News flash: Not only was Central Bank robbed by the Undersiders, but the new cape, Agloolik was there! Info, ho!

Link to Agloolik vs. Wards: [LINK]

➤ **XxVoid_CowboyxX (Possibly Nuts)**

 _April 14, 2011_

Ha! Intangibility! Called it!

➤ **ChingChangChong (Kyushu Survivor)**

 _April 14, 2011_

HOLY FLIPPING SHITE BALLS! Did anyone else see that guy go from smooth villain to BADASS BUTTKICKING DEMON!? Geez, is this guy safe to be on the streets? Someone call Dragon, put this crazy han'nin in the Birdcage.

➤ **Firepower (Unverified Villain)**

 _April 14, 2011_

Are you guys just glossing over the fact this guy kicked the Wards' and Glory Girl's asses? All on his own? That was awesome!

➤ **Glory Girl (Verified Hero) (New Wave Member)**

 _April 14, 2011_

Well, it certainly didn't *feel* awesome. I hope the fucker rots in the Birdcage.

➤ **Psyche (Cape Psychologist)**

 _April 14, 2011_

By the looks of the video, I would say it's your own and Gallant's faults for driving him to such ends.

 **[Edit Comment] [Delete Comment]**

➤ **Glory Girl (Verified Hero) (New Wave Member)**

 _April 14, 2011_

 **Psyche** \- Are you trying to tell me it's somehow *my* fault I got my ass beat up?

➤ **Psyche (Cape Psychologist)  
** _April 14, 2011_

 **Glory Girl** \- Very simply? Yes. For most of the duration of the fight, Agloolik's hair was normal-looking, his eyes were green, and his attitude was light-hearted, despite the situation. After you and Gallant overloaded his stimuli with an incredible variation of emotions, it's possible it triggered him to go on a rage-fueled rampage, or he might have some emotion-absorption power, and you caused him to overload, throwing him into his frenzy.

 **[Edit Comment] [Delete Comment]**

➤ **Glory Girl (Verified Hero) (New Wave Member)**

 _April 14, 2011_

 **Psyche** \- WTF? Fight me m8

 **[user received an infraction]**

➤ **Tin_Moderator (Moderator)**

 _April 14, 2011_

 **Glory Girl** \- This is your third warning for attempting to instigate a fight in the boards. Next time, it *will* result in a temporary ban.

➤ **Gallant (Verified Hero) (Ward Member)**

 _April 14, 2011_

I suppose **Psyche** might have a point. Our involvement could very possibly contribute to Agloolik's rage. But still: emotion absorption? How many powers can one guy have?

➤ **Agloolik (Verified Villain) (Undersiders Member)**

 _April 14, 2011_

 **Psyche** \- I concur.

 **Glory Girl** \- It *was* your fault. Screw you.

 **Gallant** \- A lot. Also screw you.

To all the Wards: Sorry for kicking your asses so hard. I had no idea it would be caught on video. ;)

➤ **Bagrat (The Guy in the Know) (Veteran Member) (Cape Groupie) (Original Poster)**

 _April 14, 2011_

 **Agloolik** \- Are you going to open up a Q &A Thread?

➤ **Agloolik** **(Verified Villain) (Undersiders Member)**

 _April 14, 2011_

 **Bagrat** \- Nah, but I'm answering questions in the Undersiders discussion thread.

 **End of Page**

 **View Page:** **First** **Previous** **1** **,** **2** **,** **3** **, …** **45** **, 46,** **47** **Next** **Last**

 **Topic: The Undersiders**

 **In: Boards ➨ North America ➨ USA ➨ Villains**

 **Bernie_the_Bold (PRT Agent) (Original Poster)**

 _April 14, 2011_

Hello there. Before, there was no speculation thread as to what the villain group "The Undersiders" was like, as well as their MOs and powers. In light of the recent robbery, the PRT has decided to open up a speculation thread about these villains. All speculation and theories can go here. We will also include a list of links to Undersider-related videos/new reports.

CNN - Underground Casino Robbery: [LINK]

Agloolik vs Lung: [LINK]

FOX News - Undersiders Rob Bank: [LINK]

Agloolik vs Wards + Glory Girl: [LINK]

 **(Showing page 5 out of 7)**

➤ **Bernie_the_Bold (PRT Agent) (Original Poster)**

 _April 14, 2011_

 **Agloolik** \- Will you at least tell us about the powers we've already seen?

➤ **Agloolik (Verified Villain) (Undersiders Member)**

 _April 14, 2011_

 **Bernie_the_Bold** \- Meh, alright: invisibility **,** intangibility, laser blasts, cryokinesis, enhanced strength, enhanced hearing, flight, duplication, temporal-based attack immunity, emotion absorption, amazing wit, slight regeneration, and general badassery.

➤ **Clockblocker (Verified Hero) (Wards Member)**

 _April 14, 2011_

What. The. Fuck.

...well, I'm useless here. Goodbye.

*scurries away*

➤ **Laserdream (Verified Hero) (New Wave Member)**

 _April 14, 2011_

Okay, so all powers revolve around a concurrent theme. So, what do *those* powers revolve around?

➤ **Agloolik (Verified Villain) (Undersiders Member)**

 _April 14, 2011_

 **Laserdream** \- That would be telling! :3

➤ **Assault (Verified Hero) (Protectorate Member)**

 _April 14, 2011_

So, Mr. **Agloolik** , what does a cape with as many powers as a Triumvirate member do in his free time?

➤ **Agloolik (Verified Villain) (Undersiders Member)**

 _April 14, 2011_

 **Assault** \- Um, I enjoy travelling to different dimensions, time travelling, and playing DOOM.

➤ **Assault (Verified Hero) (Protectorate Member)**

 _April 14, 2011_

 **Agloolik** \- Hey, you play DOOM too? Awesome!

➤ **Miss Militia (Verified Hero) (Protectorate Member)**

 _April 14, 2011_

 **Agloolik** \- Time travelling?

➤ **Agloolik (Verified Villain) (Undersiders Member)**

 _April 9, 2011_

 **Miss Militia** \- Yeah. I've been to Europe's feudal times, Ancient Rome, and the Salem witch trials. There's even a mention of me there; look up "A Salem Study of Blood Blossoms" by John Fenton-Nightingale. I'm the 'white-haired warlock" :D

➤ **Armsmaster (Verified Hero) (Protectorate Member)**

 _April 14, 2011_

 **Agloolik** \- Playing along with this obvious troll, how exactly do you 'time travel'?

➤ **Agloolik (Verified Villain) (Undersiders Member)**

 _April 14, 2011_

 **Armsmaster** \- With permission from my mentor, Clockwork, master of time, of course.

➤ **Armsmaster (Verified Hero) (Protectorate Member)**

 _April 14, 2011_

 **Agloolik** \- Right.

➤ **Chemostar (Insensitive Ass)**

 _April 14, 2011_

 **Agloolik** \- What was your trigger event?

➤ **Psyche (Cape Psychologist)**

 _April 14, 2011_

 **Chemostar** \- Would you like to talk about your most emotionally scarring day of your life? Because that's what trigger events are: the deepest, lowest time in your life. It's a horrible experience, unless you're a second generation cape. Think before you speak.

 **[Edit Comment] [Delete Comment]**

➤ **Agloolik (Verified Villain) (Undersiders Member)**

 _April 14, 2011_

 **Chemostar** \- It's fine, **Psyche**. My trigger event wasn't the most emotionally scarring day of my life, just the most physically scarring. My parents are inventors, and me  & my friends were messing around with one of their broken inventions. I accidentally turned it on and got shocked with about ten million volts of electricity. I passed out, and woke up with superpowers.

➤ **Chemostar (Insensitive Ass)**

 _April 14, 2011_

 **Agloolik** \- Ouch.

➤ **Agloolik (Verified Villain) (Undersiders Member)**

 _April 14, 2011_

 **Chemostar** \- Yeah. On the bright side, I can shrug off almost all electrical attacks with ease.

➤ **Clockblocker** **(Verified Hero) (Wards Member)**

 _April 14, 2011_

Another power for the list!

➤ **Agloolik (Verified Villain) (Undersiders Member)**

 _April 14, 2011_

 **Clockblocker** \- XP

 **End of Page**

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[][][][][]

Jazz sighed and rested her head in her hands. Her little brother was really too much sometimes.

[][][][][]

 **[A/N]: I would like to thank** _ **becuzitswrong**_ **and** _ **Arthur Hansen**_ **for the inspiration of writing the PHO Board. Check those guys out because they are WAY better than me at writing. I would also like to thank** _ **Mysterymuffin2**_ **for beta-ing. He's a great beta reader (very modest, too) and a great guy!**

 **Next up: Wards interlude!**

 **~Slenderbrine**


	21. Restless 3-X-2

**Restless 3.X.2**

 _Interlude: Brockton Bay Heroes_

Emily Piggot glanced at the clock on the wall. _Tick, tick, tick…_ it went, as the clock got closer the midnight. Deep in the bowels of the seemingly glass-built building that bore the symbol of a shield with the letters "P.R.T." on it, there was an enormous table. At this table sat the major heroes of Brockton Bay minus the New Wave, who were running late. She, the director of the PRT, sat at on head of the table. The other heroes glanced away, not looking at her directly, save the respectful Miss Militia and over-effective Armsmaster. Emily Piggot knew she was not a pretty woman. She was heavy set, with her brunette hair tucked away in a bob. She wore a navy blue suit jacket and skirt, as well as a hard scowl on her face. The clock read _11:59_ when the conference doors opened.

"Sorry we're late," Lady Photon said tiredly. She walked in with the rest of New Wave. "Long day at the office, and my team wouldn't leave without me."

Emily nodded. Normally she would scoff, and write it off a capes being capes. She hated the superpowered with a passion, but she could understand the efforts of a hardworking woman and the loyalty of a team. "Alright," she spoke aloud, as all the heroes were seated. Herself, Calvert, the Protectorate, the Wards, and New Wave had all attended this meeting. "Thank you all for coming. I assume you know what this meeting is about?"

"The Undersiders, ma'am?" Aegis spoke. His rust and silver costume was shredded after being stuck in asphalt, and wiggling around in it. Some spots were also a lot more red than the usual rust color.

"Correct, Aegis," she said, voice barely softening for a single picosecond. The teen knew his place, as well as how to treat authority figures with respect. Those were traits Director Piggot wished all capes were like; it would make her life a lot easier. She turned her attention back to the table as a whole. "The Undersiders robbed the Central Bank today, and proceeded to make the Wards, as well as Glory Girl, look like absolute fools." Her voice lowered until it was harder than steel.

"How would any of us be able to know how strong that guy was!?" Glory Girl yelled, exasperated. She was wearing a tank top and gym shorts, as her normal superhero suit got destroyed earlier. "He was like the entire Triumvirate combined in one villain!"

"I would not like to hear anything out of your mouth," Emily retorted, "or out of Gallant's mouth. What you two did out there was irresponsible an‒"

"Oh god, not you too!" the teenaged hero groaned. "Just because one 'cape psychologist'‒" she curled her fingers, creating air quotes "‒says something doesn't mean it's true." Glory Girl waved her hand, dismissively. "Psyche was probably some psychology student who didn't know what she talking about anyway; just a troll."

"Not quite," Armsmaster spoke for the first time, the conversation shifting to focus on the Protectorate hero. His silver and blue armor did nothing to reveal his body language, and what was visible of his face showed his mouth set in an apathetic line.

"Dragon and I did research into those who commented on the Undersiders-PRT thread. Unfortunately, Agloolik is using some type of untraceable web-browsing device, most likely Tinker tech," he said, grimacing. _'Another power on the list,'_ a voice in Emily's head sang, mimicking Clockblocker's post.

Armsmaster continued, "'Psyche' is actually Jazz Fenton, a student of the Brockton Bay Psychology College (BBPC) on scholarship, for her paper on 'Cape Envy', which aptly describes a psychological effect of people without powers interacting with people who have powers." His head turned towards Glory Girl, who was slightly put off. So was Emily, seeing Armsmaster smirk. "So, yes, Psyche does know what she's talking about."

"Do you think we could invite her down here to analyze what happened with Agloolik with our scientists?" Emily asked Armsmaster. He cocked his head and shrugged. "I'll have Dragon get on that," he affirmed. Emily nodded, and turned back to the table.

"Before we go over Agloolik, we will talk about his teammates first," Emily stated. "The Undersiders, the group Agloolik is a part of, were once a minor and elusive group, picking their battles and doing minor crimes. Nowadays, however, they have begun to commit large scale crimes, such as the robbery of an underground ABB casino and the Central Bank. The team consists of Grue, Hellhound, Tattletale, Regent, and, of course, Agloolik."

Emily pushed her rolling chair to the side, giving all of the heroes a clear view of the projector behind her, and stood up. On screen was a picture of a scary-looking man in black leather, wearing a motorcycle helmet with a skull on it. "This is Grue," she continued. "Grue is believed to be the leader of the Undersiders. He is capable of generating darkness from his body that cannot be penetrated by light. It mutes all of your senses should you be stuck inside of it, but some heroes‒" she nodded to Shadow Stalker, Vista, and Clockblocker "‒believe he is able to see clearly inside of it. It is also capable of Trumping some abilities, such as Shadow Stalker's shadow state." The heroes said nothing, quietly paying attention.

"Next is Hellhound," Emily said, flicking the screen to show a burly girl with a cheap dog mask on. "Real name: Rachel Lindt. Lindt began her criminal career with murder, killing a man when she was in one of her foster homes. She has been on the run ever since, and was first seen in the Undersiders as the partner of Grue, when they were the only two. Rachel Lindt has the power to mutate dogs to monstrous forms. Ward interactions with her state that it is not believed that she can control them, but rather trains them extremely well."

"Has anyone ever tried using a dog whistle around them?" Clockblocker said. Emily narrowed her eyes at the inappropriately-named hero, who raised his hands in defence. "What?" he exclaimed. "It's a serious question; if these dogs get better hearing or something, dog whistles must her like a _bitch_." He smirked, ignoring Vista slapping him for the horrible pun.

"Actually" Armsmaster voiced. "That might work." He began mumbling, taking voice notes into his helmet.

Emily sighed. "Moving on," she said, the screen switching to someone who got lost from a Renaissance fair convention. "This is Regent. It is unknown as to what he can do, as he stays in the background, rarely coming into a physical contact." She tapped the baton in the villain's hand. "This baton also doubles as a taser. Watch out for that," she said, looking at the resident Tinkers and Shadow Stalker.

The screen moved again, and this time, a girl wearing a lavender and black costume with thick vertical and horizontal bars of black, with the emblem of a stylized eye on her chest. She sported a belt with a holstered gun, as well as a black domino mask on. "This is Tattletale," Emily said. "Similar to Regent, we do not have a definite idea of what her power is. Although, based on her name, we believe it is some type of Thinker power. Tattletale has also shown expert use of guns." She stopped, and looked at the table of congregated heroes. "Any questions before we move on?" Emily asked.

"No," Sarah Pelham said, answering for her team. "Let's see the villain who beat our junior heroes." Victoria Dallon blushed at that, as well as the majority of the Wards, sans Shadow Stalker, who hadn't been there.

Emily nodded, face set in a scowl, and the screen changed to two pictures of the villain of national discussion. The left one showed a teenager with an easy-going smile. He wore a black trench coat over a white muscle shirt with a green skull on it with red eye sockets, similar in design to an Earth Aleph comic called 'The Punisher'. His black cargo pants looked as though they had items inside, but nothing could be seen. Shiny green chains were attached to his pants, either made of an unknown metal or, most likely, just painted. He had his fists raised, showing off his fingerless white gloves. His hair was white, like an absence of color, and his eyes were toxic green.

The picture on the right reminded her of Nilbog, which set her on edge. Not because of its similarity, but because the of its aura and eyes. This picture of Agloolik had him with blood red, glowing eyes. Eyes that promised pain and suffering. His hair was standing straight up, licking the sky with white flames. His body physique tripled in muscle mass, making him look even more menacing with his permanent sneer.

The new Agloolik also looked completely different. His shirt was now a black jumpsuit with white accents beneath his arms and around his neck. He had a white belt on, as well as white rubber boots and black gloves. His skin turned an odd turquoise color, like someone with hypothermia. It was, frankly, terrifying, even to her as a Nilbog veteran. She wondered if Calvert felt the same. She glanced over at the snake, watching him stare at the right picture of Agloolik with wide, fear-filled eyes. _'Yup,'_ she confirmed.

"This is Agloolik," she said, breaking everyone's trance from staring at the screen. She pointed at the left screen. "For the purpose of not confusing people, we will call this Green Agloolik," she pointed at the right picture, "and Red Agloolik." Emily put her hand down. She nodded towards Armsmaster, and took her seat. The Protectorate leader walked up to the screen and pointed at the Green Agloolik.

"Agloolik is the newest addition to the Undersiders," he spoke, voice commanding authority. "He has seen to be an incredibly powerful villain, defeating Lung on his first night. He displays combat prowess suggesting that he has been trained beforehand. Agloolik has an incredibly long list of powers that vary from intangibility, to cryokinesis, to enhanced senses. He is very powerful and if encountered, do not attack and wait for backup."

"He doesn't look that tough," Shadow Stalker commented. "He probably just got lucky."

Vista scoffed at that. "In that case, we'll just leave him to you next time," she growled.

SS shrugged. Emily scowled at them, and they quieted.

Clockblocker looked at Green Agloolik and cocked his head. "What about Clockwork?" he asked. Armsmaster looked at the boy, and he continued, "In the thread, Agloolik said that he had a mentor, named Clockwork, and alluded that his mentor has some type of extremely powerful time powers. Did you get anything on that?"

Armsmaster scowled, and let out a big sigh. "I'm afraid that I only found references of someone named 'Clockwork' in ancient texts, dating back anywhere from medieval times to Ancient Rome."

"So, is it possible that Agloolik might actually be a time traveller?" Calvert voiced, making himself known. Armsmaster looked away, and spoke, voice shaking, "There...there is a possibility, of th-...of that."

In that instance, the table erupted in discussion, yelling, and whispering. The only quiet ones were: Calvert, who reclined in his chair, deep in thought; Miss Militia, fingering her gun; and Armsmaster, who was trying to quiet the table. Emily got sick of the petty noise quickly, and yelled, "QUIET!" The entire table shut up, staring at her. "Sit," she commanded, and they sat. "Continue," she said, to Armsmaster, taking her own seat.

"Thank you," he said, "but before we continue, I'd like for our invited guests to appear."

"'Invited guests'?" Emily Piggot inquired.

"That would be us."

Every head at the table swerved, recognizing the voice. The blue-clad Legend stood in the open doorway, black-clad Alexandria and green-clad Eidolon behind him. The Triumvirate stood comfortably, like they owned the place. The three heroes exuded an aura of authority, one even herself would submit to. They walked forward and took three empty seats at the opposite head of the table that she didn't even notice before. Glory Girl and Vista looked excited to be sitting next to Alexandria and Eidolon, respectively.

"I believe you said something about time travel?" Legend spoke again. The mood over the table went back from excited to anxious. Armsmaster took a deep breath and began his report.

"First, I looked up the book recommended by Agloolik," Armsmaster began. "It did indeed include a 'spirit' that shares similarities to Agloolik. Also, he said that Blood Blossoms worked exceptionally well against him, but they can only be grown artificially. I also found a mention of a 'white-haired fighter with spectral grace and glowing eyes' in a memoir of a Roman who watched the last gladiator fight before Emperor Nero was overthrown. He claims that the fighter and Nero exchanged words, before the emperor went on to have a panic attack, and became the famous, horrible emperor we know of today."

"Are you saying," Eidolon spoke, with pursed lips. The man was soft spoken and reserved, but his voice still had the authority of any of the other members of the Triumvirate, "that Agloolik might be somehow responsible for the insanity of the reign of Nero?"

"Maybe," Armsmaster admitted. He went on, "Later, I began search the name 'Clockwork', as a proper noun. I found a few mentions of it from a medieval book called 'The Tome of the Dead'. In this book, it was said that the author talked with a spirit that appeared in a 'flash of green'. When he asked the spirit had appeared, the spirit smiled and spoke, 'All reputable men seem modest although some try enticing rings.' It is unclear as to what the 'spirit' was trying to say, but it was recorded anyways for the sake of 'science'."

As the table hushed into silence, Armsmaster took a deep breath to begin the next part of his report. But before he could, Laserdream shot up from her chair.

"Oh shit!" she exclaimed. The table turned to her, and she looked at Armsmaster. "I need a pencil and paper, NOW." she ordered. Emily reached under the table, and grabbed on of the slips of spare work paper, as well as a pen. When she came back up from the table New Wave was pestering Laserdream as to what she thought of, but her lips were sealed. Emily watched, out of the corner of her eye while handing the things to Laserdream, the Triumvirate watching intently.

Laserdream began writing on the paper, talking as she wrote. "All...reputable...men...seem...modest...although...some...try...enticing...rings…" she looked up at Armsmaster. "Right?" she asked. He nodded in confirmation. Laserdream smirked. "Now watch this," she challenged. And she wrote the words out vertically:

All

Reputable

Men

Seem

Modest

Although

Some

Try

Enticing

Rings

"The first letter of each word," Laserdream spoke aloud, and the table was quiet for several seconds. That was, until Assault voiced what they were all thinking:

"Well shit."

[][][][][]

 **[A/N]: When I was typing "Brockton Bay Heroes", I accidentally wrote "Brockton Bay Herpes" and didn't notice until typing up this [A/N] XD.**

 **So! That's the end of the Restless Arc! Also, if you're wondering what the right picture of Agloolik really looked like (the Dark Dan), look up "dark dan" on Google Images, and look at third image. It should have a teenage Dan with one hand on his waist and one hand pointing up. Minus the goatee and with shorter hair, of course.**

 **I've gained so many people who like this story, as well as my own beta reader! Next up is the Host Arc! Danny has to deal with putting Dan back to sleep, the Undersiders question Danny what the fuck that was, and you'll be getting a Cauldron interlude to the boot! Isn't this going to be awesome!?**

 **And now...the thanks. The thanks to all the people who either favorited or followed (or both) my story during this arc. *deep breath* Okay, here we go. Thank you, to:**

 **20Qsoccer**

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 ***takes sweet inhale* GEEZ that was a lot of people! 146 to be exact! Glad to see so many people enjoy my story! If you don't see your name here, either you favorited and/or followed before (and your name has been featured in a previous interlude) or you haven't favorited/followed yet! Well, why not? You're already here, at the current end (as of whenever chapter 22 hasn't gone up)! Well, I'm going to go rest. Have a good day, peoples!**

 **~Slenderbrine**


	22. Host 1-1

**Host 4.1**

I lazily munched on my bagel in the kitchen, waiting for the inevitable talk. I could have put it off, but then I would just have to wait some stress-filled hours until I saw Jazz again. So, I reclined in my chair, enjoying the calm before the storm.

I didn't need to wait long. Jazz stomped down the stairs, through the hall, and seated herself in front of me, clothes in perfect condition. The same couldn't be said for my wrinkled white t-shirt and torn jeans. Jazz looked me hard in the eye, and I swallowed my fear.

"So…" I said, unsure where to go with this conversation. "The incident yesterday, I presume?"

"You presume correctly," Jazz said. She scowled, "What happened, exactly?"

"I don't know." I took another large bite of my bagel, swallowing it. "Glory Girl and Gallant hit me with a plethora of emotion-based attacks: Glory Girl's aura and Gallants empathetic bolts. My ectoplasm drained the negative emotion like a battery, and my inner ghost came out."

"The collection of ectoplasm within you that thrives on negativity," Jazz clarified.

I nodded, "Yeah. Anyways, I kind of blanked out and I went on auto-evil. I snapped out of it when I saw myself as…" I struggled with the name, before deciding to just use a pronoun, "...as _him_. I snapped out of it, and ran away. End of story." I looked up to my older sister, who just sighed.

"You have to be more careful, Danny," Jazz said. "I know you can take on almost any hero, but that doesn't mean you're infallible. I want to protect you as best as I can, so please refrain from getting yourself in trouble like this again. Ok?"

I gave my family member a ten megawatt smile. "You got it, Jazzypants," I teased. Jazz gave me a flat glare, about to reprimand me in some way, before her phone buzzed. She shifted her attention from me to her iPhone 7. I, on the other hand, shifted my attention from her to my bagel. I closed my eyes while enjoy the buttery goodness, eating the whole bagel. The next time I opened my eyes, I saw Jazz staring at her phone with a solemn expression.

"Jazz?" I said. "What's wrong?"

"I just got an email," Jazz said, voice not betraying her emotions, "from my school."

I blinked. "Is it a good email?"

She didn't offer any kind of reply, only continuing, "My school says that the PRT contacted them and wants me to come examine the Wards." Jazz looked up at me, eyes full or worry. "And they want me to work with their Thinkers on the psychology of Agloolik."

My eyebrows raised, and I'm sure my face paled by a few shades. "Shit," I cursed.

"Maybe it's just a benign investigation?" Jazz supplied. "Not all government agencies have hidden agendas?"

I looked at her, facial muscles expressing my disagreement. "Of course they do," I countered. "Sure, part of it will probably to determine how dangerous I am to leave alone. On the other hand, they're probably preparing for psychological warfare against me."

Jazz pursed her lips, "I'm not sure the PRT is _that_ bad."

A single eyebrow was raised when I sent back my comment. "You want know why they never put people like Lung and Kaiser in the Birdcage?" I said, rhetorically. I answered my own question before Jazz could, "Because the PRT wants more strong capes to be on hand when an Endbringer shows up."

"What would you suggest then?" Jazz countered. I shrugged, a half-formed answer already in mind. "Something like the Birdcage," I said, "but with an entrance/exit to bring villains to the outside to fight Endbringers, see how the world has changed, and then shove them back inside."

I shook my head in the dream child of disgust and disappointment. "The PRT may be a great ol' superhero organization and all, but they're too focused on being 'family friendly' and putting too much emphasis on having a good public image, instead of a good reputation for heroic acts." I looked up at my sister, a smirk playing on my lips. "You know when a certain Ward came out as 'Clockblocker' without PRT approval, he was punished to two months of monitor duty? Apparently that's, like, superhero timeout.

"I'm not saying that the PRT is doing their jobs incorrectly; they're just not doing the best they can. I speak with experience on that sort of thing," I finished, letting out my extra air reserves. I made eye contact with my older sister, across the table.

At first, I thought she was going to dispute me. Her mouth was creased and her eyebrows were furrowed, a classic thinking pose. She opened her mouth and surprised me, not with a well-thought-out argument, but a release of withheld air, her posture sagging. "Alright," Jazz said. "What do you suppose?"

The answer came in a heartbeat. "Go there," I said, to Jazz's visible surprise. "I think being a shrink –" I took a little pleasure at seeing Jazz's angry look at me using the _s-word_ "– for the Wards would be excellent for you; as well, anyone would normally jump at the chance, so you should too. When it comes to me, don't lie. Just…"

"Mislead them?" Jazz finished for me. I nodded and she smiled. She got up and put her arms around me, ignoring my frantic struggling and blushing. "It seems I'm always looking out for you, little brother," she said. Jazz released me, and I gasped for sweet, sweet air, making Jazz giggle. "Well, I'll do that," Jazz said. "I have to get to class. Have a good day at school, Danny!"

School. I completely forgot. I glanced over at the digital clock above the oven; ten minutes before class started, and I didn't even have my shoes on, yet.

' _Shit.'_

[][][][][]

 **A/N: IT'S ALIVE! IT'S ALIIIIIVE! And so am I, for that matter!**

 **Hello again! So nice to be back! So, the main question at the moment would probably be "Where the flippity fuck were you?", right? The answer to that: Utah, Ohio, Pennsylvania, and Delaware. It was a combo breaker of visiting family and doing a college tour for potential colleges for myself in the future (Note: probably CWRU in Ohio). So, yeah, *dodges rotten tomato* sorry.**

 **The next question, most likely, would be: why the incredibly short chapter? Well, that would be because I'm just getting back and stuff. Don't worry, after this, my chapters should be back up to 2K-5K word length. I'm just getting back, and school is gonna start back up soon, so expect random, sporadic updates from me until some time in September to October, when I can pin down my new routine. School. Fun. *sarcasm intensifies***

 **In other news, you may have noticed I uploaded a story called 'Pure Shot'. It is a crossover between Worm (duh) and a game called 'SuperHot'. Yes, I am insane for trying to dual wield stories, when barely being able to keep just one alive. But hey! We're all a little mad here, right?**

 **Until the very near future,**

 **~Slenderbrine**


	23. UPDATE AND POLL

Hi. Slenderbrine here. Yeah, I'm still alive. Sorry.

So...this story. I had. The **_MOTHER_**. Of all writer's blocks. When it came to this story and Pure Shot. I just fell into a slump of writing-less depression. I just stared and stared and stared at this story until I decided to just start reading more FanFiction and see if a story could cure me.

And you know what? It did, actually. About 60 chapters into "Worm: More Than Meets the Eye", a Worm x Transformers crossover, it felt like a weight was lifted off my shoulders. My block just...vanished. The weirdest thing, but I swear it's true. And that, my lovely readers, brings me to...this.

This story. My most successful story EVER. I understand that the beginning might be _slightly_ plagiarized, but...yeah, no excuses. But I've been staring at this, and what goes through my mind is: I need a rewrite.

For realsies. The whole thing is just forcibly inserting Danny Fenton-Phantom in the Worm story. It was like fitting a circle into a square hole, where it fit, but not without scraping its edges. It's too forceful, too blocky.

For me, though. This is where you come in.

I'm asking everyone this question: rewrite or not? The idea of the rewrite is going to be similar background to this story, but Danny is going to probably befriend Taylor (probably XP). So, it's a question of "Rewrite, or not to Rewrite?". And, if you select "Rewrite", my question is this: should I post the rewritten chapters back over this story so everyone doesn't need to go fav/follow a whole different story (all 200 of you or so), or make another story so we can all look back on this monstrosity and think, 'Man...that was a tough fic..."? So, here's the question. Please respond by review, so I get one review per person? If my PM Inbox overflows, I'm going to get a bit exasperated.

 **QUESTION:**

 _ **Rewrite the story, or don't?**_

 **If rewrite:** ** _paste over original story, or create separate story entity?_**


	24. Results!

**The results are in! I don't want to spend to much time typing this up because I'm eager to get starts on the new story. Drum roll please?**

 **...**

 **...**

 **...**

 ***crickets***

 **...alright, I might deserve that. But! The results! Are!**

 **...REWRITE ON NEW STORY!**

 **So, yeah, I'm doing that write now. Probably going to title it "Deceased" and rename this story "Proto-Deceased" or something. To people like MEleesmasher who wanted me to keep going: I'm sorry, but, besides what the others want, I want this too. This old story felt like I was inserting Saitama into Percy Jackson; there's no build up for characters and the protagonist can easily pwn all his opponents. So, sorry.**

 **But yes! I'm typing up the first chapter for the rewrite! THANK YOU ALL AND SO SORRY TO MAKE YOU GO AND RE-FAV/FOLLOW MY STORY BUT YOUR CHOICE SO NOT MY FAULT BYEEEEE**

 **~Slenderbrine**


	25. REWRITE IS UP

The new Deceased is up! Go check it out!


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